


Anomalies

by RainbowMartin



Series: Anomalies [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Brothers AU, Human AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 59,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowMartin/pseuds/RainbowMartin
Summary: Four brothers react to the death of their mother. The oldest brother, Roman, gets custody of the twins, Patton and Virgil, and the youngest brother, Logan, after their mother's death. Virgil is also trying to navigate through a multitude of anxiety disorders, including OCD and trichotillomania, with the help of his brothers and his therapist, Dr. Picani. But meanwhile, Roman isn't sure he can handle the responsibility of taking care of his brothers, Logan doesn't process loss in a way most people can understand, and Patton isn't nearly as okay as he seems…





	1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:**   ** _Death of a parent,_** _grief, phone calls with bad news, anxiety, panic attacks, passing out, obsessive thought spirals, guilt over the death of a loved one, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness, thoughts about death._

 

* * *

 

Virgil wasn’t there when it happened, and he would never forgive himself for that.

He had been in the subway station waiting for the train to come and take him to his photography class when his phone rang. It was an unknown number, so he ignored it. A minute later, his phone showed a voicemail. Frowning, he brought it up to his ear to listen.

“Virgil, it’s Roman.”

Immediately, Virgil knew something was wrong. His older brother sounded...tired.

“I need you to call me back as soon as you get this, Virgil. Alright.”

Hands shaking, already starting to hyperventilate, Virgil dialed the number back. It wasn’t Roman’s cell phone. All of the possible reasons flooded through his mind, drowning out rational thought. “Roman?” he choked out as he heard someone pick up on the other end. “Roman, please, tell me--just tell me--”

“Virgil, where are you?”

“I’m at the subway station, Roman, please, just  _ tell me _ !”

“It--it's Mom.”

Virgil felt his heart skip a beat.

“Mom’s gone, Virgil. She...she’s gone. I’m...I just…”

Virgil was sobbing. For once in his life, he didn’t care that people were staring at him.

“Virgil? Virgil, is anyone with you?” Roman was clearly forcing back tears as well.

“N-no, I’m alone,” Virgil responded. “Roman!”

“I know, I know,” Roman said, his voice shaking. “I  _ know _ .”

“But how--why--we had  _ months _ !”

“I know,” repeated Roman. “Virgil, can you get a taxi, a Lyft, anything--just get to the hospital? I...I’m trying to keep them together, but…”

Virgil had slipped off the bench and was rocking back and forth. “I can try,” he managed to say. “Roman!”

On the other end of the line, he could hear his twin brother, Patton, wailing. Roman let out a stifled sob. “I know. Get here as quickly as you can, please, I have to go, Patton is--”

“Go, go, I’ll be fine, I’ll get there,” Virgil said through his sobs. “I love you--tell them both I love them, I’ll be there.”

“I love you,” Roman echoed, and hung up.

Virgil stood up and fled the train station, his legs shaking, tears streaming down his face. He found a taxi and slapped extra money into the driver’s hands to make him shut up and just  _ drive. _ And Virgil kept sobbing.

They were supposed to have had at least six more months. God, they were  _ prepared _ for six more months. They had come to terms with what was going to happen, but they had needed the time because they still had things to do. When the chemo was finished, and there was nothing left to do, they were going to go on a road trip. Skip school for a week, right at the end. They had  _ plans _ .

Those plans didn’t involve their mother dying six months earlier than the doctors had guessed.

Virgil didn’t remember much about the car ride, or rushing through the hospital. All he remembered was rounding the corner and falling directly into Roman’s arms before both of them collapsed onto the ground with the sobbing Patton and the silent Logan. Clinging to each other, it was probably close to an hour or so before anyone spoke.

“What  _ happened _ ?” Virgil demanded.

Roman just looked so tired. “She just stopped, Virge. There wasn’t a reason they could find.”

“That’s bullshit,” Virgil snapped.

“D-don’t s-swear,” Patton hiccuped.

Virgil ignored him. He always did. “That’s total bullshit. There has to be a  _ reason _ .”

“They haven’t found one yet,” Roman said.

“That’s bu--”

“Virgil,  _ please _ ,” begged Roman. “Please, it won’t change anything. I know you’re angry, I know. I know.”

He was. He was  _ so _ angry. Angry at the doctors, angry at the cancer, angry at the people who had seen him break down in the train station and had done nothing. Angry at himself for leaving, even for a moment.  _ What if it was my fault? _ he started to think.  _ What if I had been there and seen something, said something, changed something, and they saved her and it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen, I could have changed it, I should have changed it, I should have… _

Breathing so quickly and so loudly that the blood pounded in his ears, Virgil could barely hear his brothers calling his name and pleading with him to breathe slower, to calm down, that they were there. His twin had his arms wrapped around him so tightly that it felt like he was being suffocated, but he didn’t mind the contact. It was almost grounding. Almost.

With his supply of oxygen cut off by his hyperventilating, his vision blurred and went dark. The voices were drowned out completely by silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, anxiety, panic attacks, passing out, obsessive thought spirals, fear of contamination/germs, intrusive thoughts that could probably be classified as body horror but it’s about illness/infection and it’s not graphic, trichotillomania, poor self image, guilt over the death of a loved one, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness, discussion of isolating oneself/cutting off contact with loved ones, agoraphobia, thoughts about death.

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his side on cold tile floor. His head was in someone’s lap, and they were rubbing his back. For roughly two seconds, he couldn’t remember what had happened. Then he did, and it was like he was hearing it for the first time again. He let out a quiet sob. The hand on his back paused, then started stroking him again.

“Virgil?” Patton whispered. “Virgil, you awake?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil managed.

“You passed out,” his twin said. “It’s been eight minutes. Roman left you with me and went to...to take care of some things. Logan wouldn’t let go of him, so...it’s just you and me here.”

Virgil appreciated it. It was routine at this point for someone to give him the rundown of what had gone on while he was unconscious. It happened too often, so all of his brothers and a couple of his close friends knew what to do. But even though he didn’t get along with his twin all the time, Patton was the best at it. And he was also the only one who could consistently calm Virgil down from a panic attack  _ before _ it got to the passing out stage. Plus, he never tried to make Virgil stand up or do anything afterwards. Somehow it was like he could tell exactly how exhausted the attacks left Virgil, how heavy they made his limbs feel. Virgil didn’t  _ really _ believe in any of the crap about twins sharing a psychic connection, but sometimes it seemed like there might be something to it.

“It wasn’t a nightmare, then,” mumbled Virgil.

Patton inhaled sharply. “No,” he replied. He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I know.” Virgil tried to sit up, but could barely move. Patton shushed him and kept rubbing his back, making sure he didn’t try to get up again. “How...how is Logan holding up?” he asked after a minute.

“Oh...you know him. He hasn’t said a single word since...since Ro told him.” Patton’s voice quivered. “Or cried at all. He just sits there and holds Roman’s hand so tightly I’m scared he’s gonna break it.”

“Probably not done processing it yet,” Virgil sighed. The youngest of the four brothers, Logan, had a difficult time when it came to emotions. He had strange ways of dealing with it. When it was too much, he would go completely non-verbal, sometimes for days. The others had learned to accept it by now.

Patton made a small sound of agreement and then sniffed. He seemed to be holding back tears, and continued rubbing Virgil’s back almost fiercely, like he was trying to distract himself. His hands kneaded at Virgil’s black and purple hoodie. “We're going to be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than anything else. “We're going to be okay, so we are okay. We're going to be okay, so we are okay.”

Virgil didn't even bother trying to understand what he was talking about. He didn't get what Patton was saying half the time anyway, and the exhaustion and emotional shitstorm going on inside his head certainly didn't help. He would have started chewing on his thumbnail or picking at his eyelashes, but swirling thoughts about what might be living on the doorknobs and floors in a hospital stopped him from beginning the self-soothing behavior. Antibiotic-resistant deadly bacteria, super viruses that didn't give a shit about vaccinations...Virgil knew it was stupid and irrational, but lying there on the floor, he could feel them crawling into his eyes, into his mouth and down his throat, getting inside his cells and hijacking his DNA and multiplying until the infected cells lysed and released the infectious contents all over the nearby cells. His body might be starting to die already if the pathogens were present, and he would have no way of knowing. 

“Help me sit up,” he asked hoarsely.

Patton broke off his soft chanting about being okay. “Yeah, sure thing. Come here, Virge. You need something?”

_ I need to wash my hands and my face and my mouth, _ Virgil thought, but he couldn't let himself do that right now. He tried not to let himself think it, but the thoughts came unbidden anyway, like they always did.  _ I deserve it for not being here. I deserve the pain of not doing it. _

“Virgil?” Patton prompted. He was holding Virgil upright in a sitting position. “Talk to me.”

“It's nothing,” Virgil muttered.

“I know what ‘nothing’ is, and none of what's happening right now can be classified as ‘nothing’,” Patton said.

“I don't want to talk about it yet.”

“That's different. I can accept that.” Patton put his head down on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil’s thoughts were still spinning around and around.  _ Some of them might be airborne, _ he thought.  _ I could still be breathing them in right now. I have to stop breathing. I have to-- _ He buried his face into his elbow to breathe through his sleeve. He knew that it wouldn't really protect him, but it made his fears ease slightly, and he didn't want to pass out again, so he allowed himself the one small ritual.

Patton let out a sigh. “Virgil,” he murmured. “I know I can't understand completely, but please--"

“Leave me alone,” Virgil snapped, muffled against his sweatshirt.

“Can't do that.”

“Please!”

“Virgil! You've got to--I need you, too, Virgil, I need you right now, you can't tell me to leave you alone when we're sitting on the floor of a hospital because our mother just  _ died _ ,” Patton said with a catch in his voice that quickly turned to sobs.

Tears were flowing down Virgil’s cheeks as well. He opened his arms and Patton fell into them. Virgil sat back against the wall and held Patton to his chest, burying his face into his twin’s hair. It smelled like the shampoo they both used, and the crisp, clean scent managed to drive away his fear of infection for a little while. 

The two of them were identical, but nobody who knew them would have a hard time identifying who was who because the way they altered their appearances was completely different. Virgil straightened his hair and had it dyed dark purple--Patton’s was encouraged to be more curly with some sort of hair gel, and was left its natural light brown color. Also, the only makeup Patton wore was to cover up a red scar on his jawline where he had stood on his tiptoe and put his chin onto the edge of the stove when he was eight, trying to see what their mother was cooking, but forgetting that the edge of the other coil burner was still hot. He didn't like having to explain the large burn scar after some of his friends had laughed at him for being stupid enough to do that. Virgil, meanwhile, wore pretty heavy foundation and dark eyeshadow, eyebrow pencil, and eyeliner, mostly to distract people from the fact that he didn't have many eyelashes or eyebrow hairs left. Currently, the makeup was smeared halfway down his cheeks from his tears.

The twins had never let their mother dress them alike, even as very young kids. Virgil wouldn't wear anything with bright colors, and Patton didn't like dark clothes. They were pretty much complete opposites in behavior, too. Virgil was anxious and cautious, snarky towards authority even though he was terrified of being punished for it. His OCD and particularly his trichotillomania had caused him to isolate himself for most of his life--even Patton hadn't known about the trich until everyone else found out a couple years ago. As sweet and empathetic as Patton was, he could also be pretty oblivious. Or maybe Virgil was just really good at hiding.

Either way, it had caused a rift between them. They had been so close when they were little, almost never fighting. But when Virgil had begun developing his disorders sometime in the middle of elementary school, he had become so terrified that something was wrong with him that he had pushed everyone away. Including Patton. And Patton had been so hurt by the sudden distance between them. He didn't understand, of course. How could he? It wasn't like Virgil had explained it. He wouldn't have had the words to explain if he had tried.

Things only began to improve between them a couple of years ago, when Virgil hadn't been able to hide his nearly completely bare eyelashes anymore and Roman had made a remark about them at the dinner table. Virgil had fled in a panic to his room and locked the door behind him. Their mother had come to talk to him in a few minutes, giving him enough time to calm down a little. After asking him about what had been going on with him, she had realized that he really needed to see a therapist. That he probably should have been seeing one for years. She had tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead, assuring him that there was nothing wrong with him. Eyes tired from crying, Virgil was about to go to sleep when his twin crept into the room.

“Virgil?” Patton had whispered. “Are you awake?”

Instinctively, Virgil turned his head away. He hadn't let people look directly at his face for years in fear that they might notice it. Even though he was aware that the others knew now, it was still a habit.

Patton sat down on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Virgil mumbled in response.

Patton was silent for a few minutes, tugging at his shirt collar as he tried to think of something to say. “Is...is this why you hide so often?” he asked finally. “And why you don't hang out with us anymore?”

“Kinda.”

“Oh.” Patton paused again. “I'm sorry, if...if I made you feel like you couldn't, like, talk to me anymore. I didn't mean to--"

“It wasn't you,” Virgil said quickly. “It was just me. I didn't talk to anyone.”

“But you should have been able to talk to me,” insisted Patton. “We're supposed to be able to share everything.”

“I'm sorry,” Virgil said softly. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Patton shifted on the bed as he reached into his pocket. “I brought you something,” he said, and grabbed Virgil’s hand to press a strange object into it. “Logan wanted to give you one of his koosh-balls, but he was worried that he would make you mad if he came to talk to you. He thought it might...help.”

Virgil sat up and stared at the many-stranded toy in his palm. It was bright blue and purple, and the stiff rubber strings made a nice texture on his skin. He rolled it around his fingers carefully. He had seen Logan playing with it before, along with his many other fidget toys, and had often kind of wished that he had something similar to occupy his hands. But he didn't want to take one, because Logan would definitely notice and would definitely be upset, and he didn't want to ask for one because he would have to explain why he wanted it. And now Logan was giving him one.

He started to cry.

“No, no, don't cry!” Patton exclaimed. “No, what did I say? I'm sorry, don't cry!”

“It's okay,” Virgil said. “You didn't say anything, it's fine. I'm just…” He made a vague gesture and wiped his eyes. “I'm just tired.”

“I should let you sleep, then,” Patton said, and started to stand up.

“No, wait,” Virgil exclaimed, reaching out and grabbed Patton’s hand. “Stay for a little while?”

Immediately, Patton sat back down. “Really?” he asked. He sounded like he couldn’t believe that Virgil wanted him to stay.

“I'm sorry,” Virgil said. “I'm sorry, I should have talked to you, about any of this, this stupid…” He poked roughly at his eyebrow. “Stupid fucking...I hate it, I fucking hate it, that I can't just make myself fucking  _ stop _ , and--"

“Okay, first, stop swearing,” Patton scolded.

Virgil laughed and wiped his eyes. “Let me express myself, Pat.”

“There are better words to use to express yourself! I personally prefer using the names of ice cream flavors. Much better opportunities for puns as well.” Patton grinned. “I guess it's been a pretty  _ rocky road _ for you to get to the point where you're ready to talk to me about this.”

“Oh,  _ god _ ,” Virgil groaned. “Screw you for making me laugh, Pat, I'm trying to share my deep dark secrets.”

“Why  _ cookie dough _ -n’t you go ahead, then?” Patton invited. He squeaked a couple seconds later as Virgil poked him in the stomach. “Hey!”

“Stop making puns!”

“Never!” Patton giggled. He squeaked again and fell backwards while Virgil kept poking him. “You can't make me stop my puns! They're part of my  _ ice _ -dentity!”

“Now, see, that one was just disappointing,” Virgil informed him, continuing to prod at Patton’s stomach and sides.

“Well, you can't expect me to come up with something better while you're tickling me!” Patton whined. “Stop it!”

Virgil backed off. “Are you gonna let me talk now? I'm really trying here.”

“I know, I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Patton adjusted his shirt with a pout. “And I am...straw _ berry _ upset at you for tickling me.”

“See, this is why I don't talk to you about serious things,” Virgil muttered, flopping down onto the bed to lie shoulder to shoulder with his twin. The way they had ended up, their heads were at the foot of the bed.

Patton suddenly looked genuinely upset. “Really? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

“No,” sighed Virgil. “No, no, no, shut up, I didn’t mean it like that. Your stupid puns aren’t why I didn’t fucking tell you about things.”

“D--”

“If you try to tell me off for cursing again, I swear to god I will keep tickling you and I won’t stop until you can’t breathe,” Virgil informed him.

“Hmph.” Patton laced his fingers through Virgil’s and squeezed gently. “Alright, fine. Serious time. I’ll be as serious as Logan in his goofy little necktie, and you can tell me as much or as little as you want. No more teasing.”

Virgil could tell that he was being honest. Patton  _ could _ occasionally calm down and be serious, and a very particular tone in his voice gave him away. Staring up at the ceiling because he wasn’t comfortable looking at Patton while he spoke, Virgil said, “I don’t remember exactly when it started. The whole...pulling, thing.”

“Logan told me there’s a word for it,” Patton said softly. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“I…” Virgil was at a loss for what to say. “There’s...a word for it?”

“Uh-huh. Logan looked it up in one of those psychology manual things he borrowed from the library last week.”

“What a weird eleven-year old,” Virgil scoffed. “It’s not me who looks it up, or our mother, it’s our baby brother. And he doesn’t even Google it, he has a damn book for it. Of course he does.”

“Hey, we love him,” Patton reproached. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean, and yeah, I love him. Doesn’t mean he’s not a weird kid.” Virgil paused. “What...what’s the word?” He was almost nervous. It had just been a strange, undefined  _ thing _ that was wrong with him for half his life. Knowing its name was a daunting prospect.

“It’s called trich--um, hold on. Trich-o-till-o-mania,” Patton said slowly.

“That’s a long fucking word,” Virgil said flatly. Inside, he was reeling. There was a word for it. That must mean that more people did it. That must mean he wasn’t entirely alone.

As if he had read Virgil’s mind, Patton said, “Apparently close to one out of every hundred people is affected by it at some point in their life. It’s usually really little kids, but if it goes on for a long time, it gets harder and harder to stop it.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. His voice shook a little. “Okay.”

Patton continued, “Logan read out to us that in older kids or people who have lived with it for a long time, it can really start hurting their self-image. Sometimes it gets to the point of a--agraphobia, or something like that.”

“Agoraphobia,” Virgil corrected automatically.

“Yeah, that one. And they’re afraid of being looked at by other people, so they isolate themselves, and it negatively impacts their relationships. Seems like that’s pretty common. They learn to hide, even from the people they’re closest to, because they feel alone. Like something is wrong with them that they might get judged for, as opposed to a disorder that’s completely out of their control,” Patton said, very gently. “Sometimes it goes on for years.”

Virgil tried not to, but he was starting to cry silently. Patton wasn’t looking directly at him, so he didn’t notice. Every word that Patton said hit him hard, right in his chest. He squeezed Patton’s hand. “Pat--” He couldn’t even get the full word out before letting out a sob.

Startled, Patton rolled onto his side to look at him. “Virge? Oh! Oh, no, that’s not what I meant to do, oh, no...”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said through his tears. “It’s just--it’s so  _ much _ , and a couple hours ago I  _ was _ \-- _ that _ , and now you’re  _ saying _ it out loud, and I just, I can’t deal with it right now, I know what you’re trying to do, I appreciate it, I just...please? I’m sorry.”

“No,  _ I’m _ sorry, Virgil, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Oh, please don’t cry, please, it’s alright, I’m here.” Patton sat up, pulling Virgil with him. “Shh, Virgil, it’s okay.”

“I’m so tired,” Virgil whimpered. “I can’t deal with this right now, I can’t--” He was breathing too quickly.

“No, no, no, shhh, shhh,” Patton soothed. “I know you’re tired, I know. Let’s get you to sleep, okay? That’s what we should do right now, we can talk tomorrow. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Come here, let’s get you up here.” He guided Virgil up to the head of the bed and put a pillow in his lap. “Hug this for a minute, okay? I’m gonna get you some pajamas. Mom might not have made you change before bed, but I’m not gonna let you sleep in skinny jeans. That can’t be comfy, Virge.”

Virgil tried to laugh, but it came out as another sob as he pressed his face into the pillow. “Okay.”

“You keep hugging that pillow, and don’t let go until I’m back,” Patton instructed. “‘Cause then you can have me to hug, and I’m a whole lot better than a pillow. Plus, I hug back.” He headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Virgil asked. “My dresser is right there.”

“Your pajamas are t-shirts and sweatpants. Right now, you need something a lot softer and a lot more cuddly. I’ll be right back!” Patton promised.

Virgil rolled his eyes and sniffed. His tears were making dark spots on the purple pillow, but he had to admit, it did make him feel better to be hugging it.

Patton returned a couple minutes later, wearing fleece pajama pants and a soft shirt with some dogs on it. His pajamas were mostly designed for younger kids, but they made him happy, so nobody dared to tease him about it. He closed the door mostly, not quite latching it, and walked over to the bed. In his arms were another pair of fuzzy pants and a grey mass of fabric that Virgil recognized as Patton’s beloved cat hoodie, which Logan had given him for Christmas a couple years ago. It had little ears on the hood and everything. When Patton had first got it, there had been a solid month or so where he had refused to wear anything else. “Put these on,” Patton told him. “You’ll feel a lot better, I promise.”

Muttering to himself about how it was silly but not really protesting, Virgil got into the pajamas. They were a little too brightly colored for his taste, but they were soft and warm and comforting. Patton had slipped out of the room for a second and came back with a wet washcloth. He sat down cross-legged on the bed and waited for Virgil to come back and join him.

“I know you've got some makeup on,” Patton said. “You don't have to, but if you want to, you can wash it off.”

Virgil trembled a little. “Pat, I...I haven't taken off the eyebrow stuff around anyone else for as long as I can remember,” he admitted. “I stole a pencil from Mom in fourth grade and I've been using Roman’s stuff for years and I haven't--

“Like I said, you don't have to. But, I mean...it's just me here. I think it might even help.” Patton handed him the damp washcloth. “Up to you.”

“I...okay,” Virgil whispered. He turned away and scrubbed at his face to get all of the makeup off. His hands were shaking and he seriously considered just running away and locking himself in the bathroom instead of turning around and letting Patton see. All the words that he heard when he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his patchy, nearly non-existent eyebrows were flying around his head.  _ Freakish. Gross. Inhuman. Weird.  _ He tossed the damp cloth onto a plastic school binder on his desk and turned around.

Patton’s face was impassive as he gazed at his twin. “Come here,” he said, and patted the bed in front of him.

Virgil came over and sat down, still shivering. He could barely look Patton in the eyes, forcing back tears as he tried desperately not to turn his face away and hide.

After a minute, Patton reached out and put his hands on either side of Virgil’s face, pulling him closer so he could kiss his forehead. “I'm really proud of you,” he whispered.

That did it. Virgil burst into tears and fell forward into his brother's arms. “You don't think I look horrible and--and weird, and bad?” he asked.

“No, Virge. You look brave. Shhh, I've gotcha. It's okay, it's alright.” Patton hugged him tightly. “Shhh, it's okay.”

The door creaked open slightly. “Everything alright in here?” their mom asked. Logan was pressed to her side.

“Everything's fine, mama,” Patton said. “I've got him. He'll be okay.”

“I believe you, sweetheart. Make sure you get to bed soon,” she said. “I love you both so much.”

“Love you,” Virgil managed to say with his face hidden in Patton’s shoulder.

“Love you, mama. Goodnight! And goodnight, Lo,” Patton added.

“Sleep well,” responded the eleven-year-old. “Did Virgil like the ball?”

“I love it,” Virgil told him, still crying. Without looking up, he held up his hand where he still had the koosh-ball clutched in his fingers.

“Good,” Logan said, and that was that.

The door closed quietly and the lights were flicked off. As Logan and their mom walked down the hallway, Virgil could hear her say softly, “See? It was a good idea, baby.”

“He was crying,” Logan replied.

“Not because he didn't like it.”

“I don't understand, but I believe you.”

Virgil sniffed. “He's so sweet,” he mumbled. “Even though he doesn't really get most of it.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, Mom is right. It's time for bed. You want to lie down?” Patton suggested.

Virgil was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. But he didn't want Patton to go back to his own room and leave him all alone, so he clung tighter and let himself keep crying.

“Shhh,” Patton murmured. “Oh, Virge. Oh, you're gonna wear yourself out so bad. Shhh, shhh.” He stroked Virgil’s back softly, which shook with every breath as he sobbed. “Talk to me, how can I help?”

“I just...don't want you to leave,” Virgil told him. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

“Wasn't planning on leaving. Aren't we having a sleepover? I thought that was obvious.” Patton ruffled his twin’s hair with a little laugh. “Silly. As if I'd leave you alone at a time like this.”

Unable to verbally express how relieved he was, Virgil settled for just slowing down his sobs until he was barely even crying anymore. Patton let him lie down with his head on the pillow and pulled the blankets around until he found a comfortable position for himself. Then he tugged the blankets up around both of their shoulders and wrapped his arms around Virgil like he was holding a teddy bear while Virgil got rid of a few lingering sobs.

“I've got you,” Patton said in an almost sing-song voice. “I've got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay. I'm here, don't be scared, everything's okay.”

Virgil closed his eyes and nestled closer to his twin. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to cuddle with him like this. They hadn't done it in years because of Virgil pushing him away and also because at 14, they would probably be laughed at for still cuddling with each other. “Love you, Patton,” he breathed.

“Love you, too, Virge. Now go to sleep,” Patton insisted, pressing a kiss to the side of Virgil’s head.

Feeling more comfortable in his own skin than he had in ages, Virgil actually managed to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, anxiety, trichotillomania, poor self image, OCD, some swearing, discussion of isolating oneself/cutting off contact with loved ones, agoraphobia, cognitive behavioral therapy, lots of therapy talk.

Their mother had found a therapist for him and made an appointment for the following Friday afternoon. Virgil spent the entire week freaking out about it. He didn’t know what to expect, and that was terrifying to him. Instead of homework, he obsessively researched the kind of cognitive-behavioral therapy that was apparently used to treat trich. He read the websites over and over again, still not able to figure out exactly what was going to happen in the session with the therapist, Dr. Picani. On Thursday night, he had gone to Patton in tears and begged him to come with him the next day.

“Of course,” Patton had said immediately. “Breathe, Virgil, I can come with you. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

“I don’t know why I’m so scared,” Virgil whimpered. “I don’t want to go, Pat, I don’t want to do this.”

Patton made him sit down on the floor before he could pass out. “It’s okay to be scared, Virgil. I’m sure it’s really scary! But...okay, let’s think about it. What’s the worst thing that could happen tomorrow when you go in to talk to this person?”

Virgil opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He frowned, wondering why he didn’t have an immediate answer.

“That’s kinda what I thought,” Patton said. “Virge, I know you’re afraid--I would be, too. But I’ll come with you and I’ll be there as much as you want me to be, and you’ll talk to this guy, and then it’ll be over and we’ll be home. And it’s going to be okay.”

“Is it okay that I’m not entirely convinced?” asked Virgil.

“Uh-huh. I can be sure enough for the both of us. Come here, let’s go make sure Roman knows his lines for his performance on Saturday.” Patton pulled Virgil to his feet and they went to go find Roman. Virgil was grateful for the distraction.

The next day, their mother picked both of them and Roman up from the high school, then drove to the middle school to get Logan. She dropped the oldest and the youngest off at home and then began the drive to Dr. Picani’s office. Virgil could feel the panic rising up in his throat and he squeezed the koosh-ball from Logan with one hand and Patton’s hand with the other.

“Breathe,” Patton reminded him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Mm-hmm.” Virgil kept clinging to his hand as they left the car and walked up the stairs in the office building. Sitting in the lobby, Virgil found that he could barely breathe. He stared at the clock at the wall, and then let his eyes wander around the cartoon posters surrounding it.

“Virge?”

“‘m okay,” he mumbled. He looked over at their mom. “Are you sure this guy isn’t, like, a kid’s therapist?”

“Sweetie, you  _ are _ a kid,” she told him gently. “But when I talked to him on the phone, he told me that he works with people of all ages, and all sorts of problems.”

Suddenly, the office door opened and a man wearing a tan sweater and a pink tie stepped out. “Hello, hello!” he greeted cheerfully. “May I ask which of you is Virgil Sanders?”

Virgil felt like his heart was going to stop. He was pretty sure he was crushing Patton’s hand as he made eye contact with the therapist. “I am,” he mumbled.

“Wonderful! Would you come with me, please? I'd love to talk to you for a little while before I give your mother some boring paperwork.”

Starting to panic harder, Virgil looked over at Patton with pleading eyes.

“I'll be right out here,” Patton promised. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Reluctantly, Virgil let go of his hand and stood up. He was shaking as he followed the therapist into his office and stood by the door, not sure what to do.

Dr. Picani smiled at him reassuringly. “Would you like to sit down?” he invited, gesturing at the black sofa against the wall.

“Not really!” Virgil blurted out, then cursed silently.  _ Shit, fuck, that wasn't really a question, you idiot. _

But if Dr. Picani was surprised by the answer, he didn't show it. “No problem, Virgil. Is that what you'd prefer me to call you? I always ask, because sometimes my patients have a name that their parents don't know about.”

Virgil blinked. “Virgil is fine,” he confirmed.

“And your preferred pronouns?”

_ Okay, he's kinda cool. _ “He and him.”

“Thank you, Virgil.” He made a note of it on a clipboard. “You can call me Dr. Picani. My pronouns are he and him as well. Now, I have a question for you. Do you how do?”

For a few seconds, Virgil stared at him. He wondered if he had heard incorrectly, or if his brain was doing the thing where he didn't process a sentence completely. “Um...what?” he said finally. “Could you...repeat that, please? I'm sorry.”

“Do you how do?” Picani repeated.

_ Nope, I didn't hear wrong. _ “I don't…”

Picani laughed at his confusion, but it wasn't malicious. “Don't worry, Virgil. Nobody gets it the first time. It's just my way of asking ‘how are you doing’ and ‘how are you feeling’ and ‘what's going on with you or troubling you today’. But sometimes any of those questions are hard to answer honestly because we have such deeply ingrained scripts for conversation in our head. ‘How are you doing?’ ‘Good, thanks, how are you?’ ‘Doing good, thank you.’" He acted it out, turning his head with each line like he was being both people at the same time. He made strange, cartoony voices for the hypothetical characters. “So I came up with a new question that doesn't have a script. It doesn't make sense, it's a little silly, but it works. I get more complete and honest answers.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Virgil said faintly. He was reeling slightly.

“Thanks! Alright, now I'll start over. Virgil, do you how do?”

“Uh…” To Virgil’s dismay, he could feel tears starting to come to his eyes as he tried to speak. “Um...well, I...I just f-figured out that I've got t-trichotillomania, and probably other stuff as well, and my mom decided I sh-should see a therapist and--" He was crumbling. He didn't want to do this yet. “And I'm sorry,” he choked out, “but I don't think I'm ready yet, I'm sorry--" He turned and fled out the door and ran right over to Patton, who caught him quickly.

“Virgil? Virgil, what's wrong?” their mother asked.

Dr. Picani had followed Virgil out slowly, unfazed, like he had seen it all before. “Virgil, it's perfectly alright that you're not ready to talk about it yet. It takes time to be able to open up about things like this, especially after hiding them for so long. Take as much time as you need right now, okay?”

Virgil tried to nod as he sobbed into Patton’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said.

“Ms. Sanders, I've got a bit of paperwork for you to fill out,” Dr. Picani added. “Would you like to fill it out now or later?”

“I can do it now,” she answered. “Patton is perfectly capable of handling Virgil.”

Patton rubbed his twin’s back calmingly as the adults walked away. “Virge? You wanna tell me what happened just then? What did he say? Did he do something wrong?”

“No,” Virgil said. “No, he's actually r-really nice. I just c-can't t-talk to him.”

“Would it help if I came in with you?”

It definitely would, but Virgil didn't want to  _ say _ that, because then Patton might feel pressured to go with him and that was the last thing he wanted. He had already dragged his twin along this far. So he said nothing.

“Okay, so that's a yes,” Patton said, laughing a little. “We'll ask the guy if it's okay when he and Mom get back, alright?”

“Okay,” Virgil said a little sheepishly. He hiccupped as he tried to stop crying. “Sorry. I should be able to do this on my own, I'm just being stupid, I--"

“If you keep talking bad about yourself, I'm going to physically fight you,” Patton threatened, hugging him tighter.

“I’d like to see you try,” Virgil mumbled, but he actually let out a small giggle. Patton was far from intimidating.

“There, good. Laughing is good. Isn’t laughing good?” Patton held Virgil’s shoulder and brushed the tears off his face. “Feeling a little better?”

To his surprise, he  _ was _ feeling a little better. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Are you sure you’re okay with coming in with me? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” Patton said firmly. “I bet Mom would come in with you, too, if you asked.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Virgil replied. “Honestly, if she heard how this guy talks, she’d probably decide he’s not a serious enough therapist and she needs to find someone else.”

Patton giggled. “What did he  _ say _ ?”

Virgil raised his eyebrows. “‘Do you how do?’” he said, mimicking the therapist’s inflection perfectly.

“Do the what now?” Patton said blankly.

“ _ Exactly _ .” Virgil snorted. “Also, there’s more cartoon pictures in his office, and a wide array of stuffed animals. Probably other stuff that I was too busy making a fool out of myself to notice--”

“I’ll fight you--”

“Oh, hush, I’m just telling the truth.” Virgil shoved him gently.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah, I was!”

“You’re not allowed to be mean to yourself,” Patton proclaimed. “‘Cause I fight people who are mean to my brothers, and I don’t want to fight you.”

“Pat, you have never fought someone in your life,” Virgil said. “And no, tickle fights don’t count.”

“Maybe I’m just  _ really _ good at making sure you don’t see when I hit them!”

“I honestly don’t think that you could bring yourself to hit someone if you tried,” said Virgil bluntly. “You won’t let Roman kill spiders even when you’re screaming and hiding behind him.”

“Hey! Even the creepy-crawly death dealers have feelings!” protested Patton.

“You’re so weird,” Virgil sighed.

Just then, Dr. Picani came back into the room. “Virgil? Are you ready to come back in now? If not, that’s alright.”

Patton spoke up before Virgil could. “Is it okay if I come in with him? We’ve already talked about it.”

“Virgil, would that make you feel more comfortable?” Dr. Picani checked.

Virgil nodded.

“Then yes, of course. Come on in whenever you’re ready.” The therapist stepped inside his office to wait.

“Ready?” Patton asked.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so.”

With Patton next to him, he had a much easier time sitting down on the couch. Patton immediately gravitated to a stuffed animal that Virgil was pretty sure was a heffalump from Winnie the Pooh. He reached for it, and then stopped, glancing at Dr. Picani.

The therapist looked amused. “You can hold one, that’s what they’re there for.”

Patton grabbed the stuffed animal happily and sat down next to Virgil. “Your office is really cool,” he said.

“Thank you!” Dr. Picani responded. “That’s very nice of you...I’m sorry, I never caught your name?”

“I’m Patton.” He tucked his feet up on the couch next to him comfortably, holding the heffalump in his lap. “Virgil and I are twins.”

“Aha, my guess was right! I’m Dr. Picani, and my pronouns are he/him.”

“He/him, too!”

“Lovely, now, with introductions out of the way...Virgil.” Dr. Picani focused his attention on Virgil, who started to shrink back uncomfortably. “I’m not going to start with the big questions again, alright? We can get there when we get there. But I’d like to get to know you a little better, so I’ll ask some more specific questions. Anything you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. Is that alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil mumbled.

“Do you two have any other siblings?” asked Dr. Picani.

“Yeah, big brother, Roman. He’s 18 next month. And baby brother, Logan. He’s eleven,” said Virgil.

“Tell me a little bit about them,” Dr. Picani invited.

“Um, Roman is a senior at the same high school we go to,” Virgil continued. “He’s a big name in our theater department, he wants to be a Broadway actor. And Logan is in 6th grade at the middle school. He skipped second grade, so he’s a year ahead. He’s really smart. He gave me this.” Virgil held up the koosh-ball.

Dr. Picani’s face lit up. “Oh! That’s wonderful, you already have a fidget toy. And that’s exactly the kind I recommend to my patients with trich, as well.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Virgil repeated. “He’s got lots of things like this--he’s always been, uh...Pat, what’s it called?”

“Sensory-seeking,” Patton supplied easily.

“Uh-huh, that one.”

“Well, that’s great. Let me ask, how long has it been since you first identified trichotillomania as a problem you deal with, Virgil?” Dr. Picani asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Um…” Virgil took a shaky breath. This was straying dangerously close to where he would start to either panic or cry. “Like, when I figured out what it was? Or...or, when it started, or…”

“When it started, first,” clarified the therapist. “If you know. A lot of times, it’s difficult to identify exactly when a BFRD began.”

“A what?” Virgil asked, confused.

“Oh, I’m sorry. A BFRD is a general term, an initialism that stands for body focused repetitive disorder. It includes dermatillomania, which is skin picking, and even something as common as biting fingernails. But it also includes trichotillomania,” explained Dr. Picani.

“Okay. Um...sometime in elementary school. I think probably around third grade.” Virgil pulled at some of the strands of the koosh-ball.

“So it’s been quite a long time.”

“Yep.” Virgil didn’t look up. He could feel Patton pressing closer to his side, trying to keep him calm. “But I didn’t know it was...a  _ thing _ , until a week ago.”

“You mean, you didn’t know there was a name for it?”

“Uh-huh. Roman, um, pointed out my, um, lack of eyelashes,” Virgil mumbled. “And I kinda freaked out.”

“Perfectly normal,” Dr. Picani assured him. “BFRDs aren’t talked about very often, so a lot of younger people with them aren’t told that they aren’t alone. It’s also normal to have a fear response when someone notices the effects. Was it fight, flight, or freeze for you, Virgil?”

“Flight,” Virgil admitted. “I ran and hid in my room until my mom came to talk to me. And then Patton, and…” He looked over at his twin. “And you told me that Logan had looked it up, and that it had a name.”

“I bet that was a pretty big relief after all those years, to know that you aren’t an anomaly,” Dr. Picani said.

That hit hard. Virgil grabbed Patton’s hand, willing himself not to cry.  _ Anomaly _ . He just nodded. He didn’t trust himself to say anything through the lump in his throat.

Clearly noticing that Virgil was getting uncomfortable, Dr. Picani changed the subject. “How about a different question? What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“Um--” Virgil was taken aback. “Um-- _ Black Cauldron _ . And  _ Nightmare Before Christmas _ , I guess.”

“Ah, classics,” Dr. Picani sighed. “What about you, Patton?”

Patton gestured to the pink heffalump he had grabbed earlier. “All the  _ Winnie the Pooh _ movies. I can’t choose between them.”

“That’s fake, you only say that because you don’t like picking favorites,” Virgil scoffed. “But you like  _ Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin _ best and we all know it.”

“Hey!”

“And you hide your face in my shoulder when they’re trapped underground in the ice tunnels,” Virgil added.

“ _ Hey! _ I won’t stand for this slander!” Patton yelped.

“Just telling it how it is, bud.”

“Well,  _ you _ say that  _ Black Cauldron _ is your favorite because you claim that musicals are stupid, but you’re the one who hummed ‘Let it Go’ for a month after Roman made us go see  _ Frozen _ ,” Patton shot back.

“It’s a catchy song, it got stuck in my head! Doesn’t mean I  _ liked _ it!”

Dr. Picani cleared his throat. “It’s funny you should mention  _ Frozen _ \--I was actually considering using that as our analogy today.”

“Our--huh?” Virgil asked, turning away from the banter with Patton.

“Well, you might have noticed that my office is pretty cartoon-themed,” Dr. Picani said.

“Nope, didn’t notice,” Virgil said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“I like to use cartoons to relate my patients’ struggles with fictional stories,” the therapist explained. “It can be easier to talk about something in the context of a movie or a TV show. It adds a layer of separation between us and the issues we’re discussing and helps my patients feel safer talking about deeply personal things.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Then Virgil frowned. “ _ Frozen _ ?!”

Dr. Picani giggled a little at the annoyance on his face. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

Virgil thought about it for a second. Then, making a face, he said, “Not really.”

“One person hides from the world because of a part of themself that they’re afraid of and then runs away when it’s discovered,” Patton said thoughtfully. Then he gasped. “Does that make me Anna?”

“I see it,” Virgil told him. “You’re both annoyingly peppy.”

“I think you mean  _ Anna _ -noyingly,” Patton teased.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant,” Virgil said.

“Or--wait, wait, no, en- _ deer _ -ingly peppy,” Patton laughed. “‘Cause of the reindeer.”

“Oh, my god,” Virgil groaned. “Is it too late to kick you out of the room?”

“So you see the parallels?” Dr. Picani asked.

“Kind of,” Virgil said reluctantly. “But there’s a pretty huge difference.”

“No allegory is going to be perfect, but by all means, share your thoughts on the subject.”

“It’s just…” Virgil held up his hands. “I...hid because something  _ is _ wrong with me. Lots of things, not just the trich. I don’t have awesome magical powers that I’m afraid of because they might hurt someone. I just have a disease. There’s no potential for good there.”

“Ah.” Dr. Picani nodded slowly. “Now, there, I think, is where the real issue here lies.”

“What?”

Dr. Picani leaned forward again, making solid eye contact with Virgil. He spoke quietly and clearly. “You don’t have a disease, Virgil. That’s an incorrect way of thinking. You have a pathway that has formed in your brain, a pathway that you default to when there is ever a moment of unsurity. You might notice that you pull more when you’re stressed, or sad, or just bored. It’s a way that your brain has learned to release any sort of tension. It's so addictive, this tension and relief, that it's nearly impossible to stop. You deepen the pathway every time you give into the urge to pull--like a creek flowing through a forest, wearing away at the ground until it can't follow any other path unless some outside force physically diverts it. And then, after a long time and a lot of work, the ravine might fill in again with soil. That's what we do here--we divert the creek so that the neural pathways can't strengthen. Cognitive-behavioral: we change the way your brain is wired to change a behavior.”

“That was...a different metaphor than  _ Frozen _ ,” was all Virgil could think to say.

“Sometimes cartoons just don't cut it. But does that make sense, Virgil? Do you understand what the goal of this therapy is?”

“I think so.”

“Our time is almost up, but would you be alright talking to me for a couple of minutes alone? I'm so glad that your brother being here could make you feel more comfortable, but I've got a couple of homework assignments for you.”

Virgil glanced at Patton. “I guess,” he said in a small voice. He didn't  _ really _ want Patton to leave, but he understood why Dr. Picani wanted to talk to him alone. “It's okay, Pat, I'll be out in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” Patton checked.

“Yeah. I'll be alright.”

Hesitantly, Patton stood up, put the heffalump back where it had been, and left the office. Now Virgil was sitting alone again. He started to get nervous.

“Virgil, about your homework assignments,” Dr. Picani started. “I am so glad that you have someone like Patton to turn to for support. At least one time in the next week until I see you again, I want you to tell him when you've been tempted to pull. If you can, try to write something down about it. If you don't want to do that, it's alright, I'm not going to be grading it like a homework assignment from school. And also, try to pay attention to any times of the day you pull more than others, or if there are certain classes, or places in your home. Eventually, I'll ask you to keep a journal about it. Not quite yet, though, we start slow. And remember, I'll never push you past what you can handle. If it gets close, tell me. This isn't a place I ever want you to feel unsafe. Alright?”

Virgil felt a few tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He was a little overwhelmed. “Alright,” he said. “I can try to do that.”

“And there is one other thing. Next Friday when you come back, I'm going to have some evaluations for you to do. You mentioned multiple times that it isn't just the trich that is bothering you, and I'd like to figure out what that other stuff is. The tests aren't scary, they aren't graded, they're mostly just checklists and ranking statements as more true or more false on a number scale. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, though his heart was pounding at the thought of it. Then, “Actually, that makes me r-really nervous.” Filling out tests? Tests that were going to tell him what was wrong with him? It sounded  _ terrifying _ . He started breathing too quickly.

“Virgil,” Dr. Picani said softly. “Virgil, focus on me. I'm going to teach you something that might help when you start feeling like you are now. Try to breathe as I start to count--we're going to breathe in for four seconds, hold our breath for seven, and then breathe out for eight. And then repeat it as many times as we need until you feel calmer. I'll start counting. In, two, three…”

After just a few cycles of the breathing exercise, Virgil began to get the hang of it. Focusing on the numbers and on the breath entering and leaving his body, he found that he wasn't panicking about the tests anymore. His mind actually began to slow, breaking out of the tight loops that his thoughts usually travelled in. A few more times, and Dr. Picani seemed satisfied that he was doing better.

“Ready to breathe on your own again?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil mumbled. “I'm not as scared anymore.”

“That's wonderful, Virgil. I just want to let you know, you did very well today, and I'm really impressed.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose. “I ran away crying,” he pointed out. “I hardly think that was very impressive.”

“Ah, yes, but you came back. And that is a very brave thing to do, my friend. Well, until next time, it was lovely to meet you, Virgil. Remember your homework, and remember to use the breathing tool if you need it.” Dr. Picani opened the door for him. “Have a good weekend!”

“You, too,” Virgil replied. He offered the therapist a small smile and then made a beeline over to where Patton was waiting for him.

“You okay?” Patton whispered as their mother went over to pay the bill at the front desk.

Virgil grabbed his hand. “Kinda,” he confessed.

“Need a hug?”

Nodding, Virgil held out his arms as Patton pulled him close. “Thanks,” he breathed. “I'm just...I don't know, I'm really tired now. It really drained me, or something."

Patton rocked back and forth. “We can put on a movie when we get home and you can take a nap on me. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” Virgil could barely stay awake the whole car ride home. Patton would nudge him slightly every time his eyes started to close. When they got home, Virgil kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the couch, where he collapsed. Logan was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book in his lap, and Roman was nowhere to be seen. Probably in his room writing or running lines for his performance tomorrow.

“I've got some work to do, sweetie, will you be alright?” their mother asked Virgil.

“I'll be fine. Just need a nap,” he answered.

Patton was already in the kitchen. He heated up some water and made a mug of peppermint tea for Virgil and hot chocolate for himself. Mugs in hands, he made his way over to the couch and handed Virgil his tea. Then, sipping his hot chocolate, he turned on the TV to a random channel and brought the volume down to a level of background noise. He returned to the couch with a heavy quilt, which he draped around Virgil’s shoulders.

Having drank most of his tea, Virgil felt shockingly calm for once. His eyes were drifting shut as Patton sat down and pulled him down across his lap. Patton began petting his hair softly. “I've got you,” he whispered. “Shhh, it's okay. I've got you.”

With his twin’s fingers running through his hair, Virgil couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and he fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, anxiety, trichotillomania, panic attacks, obsessive thought spirals, dissociation, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness (leukemia), thoughts about death, self-hatred, self-depreciation.

The next Friday, he walked out of Dr. Picani’s office with diagnoses of OCD, trich, and a panic disorder. He managed to hold it together until he got into the car, and then started to cry. Patton, who had come with him again, slid over into the middle seat so he could do both of their seatbelts and then put his arms around his twin.

“This is a good thing,” their mother said as she drove out of the parking garage. “Now that we know why you’re feeling this way, we can work on making it better. Are you okay with Dr. Picani, or do you want to find a different doctor?”

“I’d rather stay with him,” Virgil replied, trying to keep his breathing under control with the exercise that the therapist had taught him. “He--he’s good, I like him.”

“Is he helping?”

“Uh-huh.” Virgil nodded, putting his head down on Patton’s shoulder with a sniffle. “I mean--I don’t know how much  _ anyone _ can actually help, but...if anyone can, I think it might be him.”

And over the next six months, things did improve. A lot. Virgil actually managed to get the trich under control, and he was passing out from panic attacks a lot less. After a few weeks, he didn’t have anxiety attacks about going to see Dr. Picani anymore. He actually found himself looking forward to it, which really surprised him. He could laugh at the therapist’s slightly ridiculous, over the top cartoon comparisons one minute and then talk to him about the deeply rooted obsessive rituals that he had never told anyone else about the next minute. Some of his eyelashes even started to grow back.

Then their mother had been diagnosed with leukemia, and all of the progress flew out the window.

The night after the confirmed diagnosis was told to him, he found himself in front of the bathroom mirror. He could barely remember doing it, he must have dissociated, but pretty much all of his eyelashes were gone again, and most of one eyebrow. As soon as he realized what he had done, he burst into tears and collapsed onto the bathroom floor with a thud, smacking his arm against the cabinet.

A few seconds later, someone was knocking at the door. “Virgil! Virgil, what was that sound? Virgil, are you crying? Open the door, please, let me come in,” Roman pleaded.

Footsteps, and then Patton’s voice joined him. “Virge?” he said, sounding frightened. “Virge, are you okay? Answer me!”

Shaking so hard he could barely get his hands to cooperate, he reached up and unlocked the door. It flew open.

“Oh, Virgil, honey!” Roman exclaimed. “Oh…”

Patton dropped down in front of him and grabbed his hands. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he said. “What happened? Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

Virgil shook his head. Sobbing, he tried to explain that he had relapsed with the trich. Knowing that he wasn’t making much sense and finding it difficult to put words in any sort of coherent order, he wiped away his eye makeup roughly with the back of his hand.

Patton gasped sharply. “Oh! Oh, Virgil...oh, you should have told me it was bad again.”

“I was doing so good,” Virgil sobbed. “I w-was doing so good, I d-don’t understand, I was t-trying  _ s-so _ hard! And n-now I f-fucked it all up, I c-can’t...I’m a f-failure, m-mom’s gonna be s-so disappointed, and so is Dr. Picani…” He hit the floor with his fist, wincing at the pain.

Roman nudged Patton aside, saying, “Virgil, let’s get you out of the bathroom. Come here, it’s okay, we’ve got you.” He hesitated for a second, then just scooped the crying Virgil up into his arms and carried him down the hall into the nearest bedroom, Patton’s. He set him down on the bed.

“I’m a failure,” Virgil whimpered again. “And m-mom’s gonna see when she g-gets home from her appointment, and I’m g-gonna have to t-tell Dr. Picani that I fucked up, and I’m so  _ stupid _ , I hate myself for fucking this up, I--”

For once, Patton didn’t tell him off for swearing. He held Virgil’s hands as tightly as he could. “You’re  _ not _ a failure,” he said sternly. “Listen to me, Virgil. The...the news we got yesterday, it’s messing with all of us. Logan hasn’t said a word all day, I...I can barely stop crying.” And indeed, there were tears dripping down his cheeks. “It’s  _ scary _ , Virgil, and Dr. Picani told you that it gets worse when you’re scared or stressed. Remember?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil managed. “But still--”

“No, no ‘but still’. You aren’t allowed to hate yourself because of this, Virgil. We won’t let you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Virgil into his arms. “Nobody is disappointed in you,” he murmured. “Nobody is going to blame you.”

Probably drawn by the noise, Logan nudged his way into the room. He gazed at his brothers, wide-eyed.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said. “What's up?”

Logan gestured at Virgil and tilted his head.

“He's...he's gonna be okay,” Patton said.

Logan narrowed his eyes and left the room, walking with purpose.

The phone rang suddenly. Roman groaned. “I'll go get it. You got him?”

“I've got him,” Patton confirmed.

Roman ruffled Virgil’s hair as he rushed off to get the phone.

“Pat?” Virgil said in a tiny voice.

“Yeah?”

“I'm really scared.”

“Me, too.” Pat gave him a squeeze. “Me, too.”

Logan came back into the room and held out one of his koosh-balls. It was pale pink, and a little smaller than the blue one he had given Virgil a while ago.

Virgil smiled through his tears and took the toy. “Oh, Lo...thanks.”

The quiet 12-year old hopped up onto the bed, his legs dangling over the side. “The five year survival rate for leukemia is 63% and rising with advancements in treatment,” he said, the first words he had spoken all day. “The probability is on our side for a good outcome.”

“That...that helps, Logan,” Patton said sincerely. “Are you doing okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Roman walked back through the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “That was Mom. She wants us to know that they’re doing more tests, and it might be a while, so don’t wait for her to come home to go to sleep. She says she loves us all, and that she’s really proud of us for being so strong.”

Virgil’s lower lip trembled. He  _ hadn’t _ been strong.

“I’m really tired,” Patton said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “Can...can we all stay here tonight?”

“Sure,” Roman agreed. “Let’s all get pajamas. Lo, do you want me to read the next chapter in the book for you?” Logan was, of course, more than capable of reading even very advanced books by himself. However, he also liked being read to, and Roman was always more than happy to oblige, especially if it meant that he got to do character voices. He had just finished reading Logan  _ The Hobbit _ , and was beginning  _ The Lord of the Rings _ . Logan had immediately pointed out the flaw in logic with the plot hole that ‘the eagles could have just flown them to Orodruin’. Roman had decided to engage in a debate about realism vs fantasy and plot devices, which was one of the very few topics he had a fighting chance of winning against Logan in. He actually managed to get Logan to suspend disbelief, and now the kid was just really enjoying the novel.

“Yes, please,” Logan said. “If Patton and Virgil are okay with it?”

“I’m definitely gonna fall asleep halfway through the chapter, but sure,” Patton answered.

Virgil nodded his agreement.

Logan and Roman went off to get ready for bed, and the twins got changed in Patton’s room. They went to the bathroom to brush their teeth, Virgil avoiding looking in the mirror at all costs. Then they went back to Patton’s room and settled down on the side of the double bed that was against the wall. Patton reluctantly moved some of his many pillows and stuffed animals on his bed to the top of his dresser.

“Surely you don’t need that many pillows,” Virgil said. “And you’ve got, like, fifteen plushies there.”

“Eighteen, and I love each and every one them,” Patton retorted. “And hey, you like sleeping on a tiny twin bed with about a hundred pounds of blanket on top of you even though Mom offered you a double bed as well. I don’t cast judgement on how  _ you _ choose to sleep.”

“Whatever,” Virgil said. He had slid down underneath the covers, facing the wall. He was still holding the pink koosh-ball from Logan.

Patton plunked down next to him. “So...how are you doing?” he asked seriously.

Virgil laughed humorlessly. “Well, I’m all out of tears. Is that good or bad?”

“Ohhh…” Patton nestled up against him, sighing. “Virge.”

“No, I…” Even though his eyes were dry, there was a lump in his throat that was difficult to speak around. “Pat, I went almost a  _ month _ without pulling at all. And then I just completely ruined it. And I hate that  _ that’s _ what I’m focusing on, and not the fact that our mother has cancer. I just feel like...like I’m a horrible person.”

Patton let out a sound of discontent and wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist from behind. “You’re  _ not _ a horrible person.”

“Then why am I crying about my stupid eyelashes instead of our sick mom?” Virgil muttered.

“I don’t have the energy to fight you right now,” Patton said tiredly. “So I’m just gonna hold you instead.”

Virgil exhaled softly. “I appreciate that. I don’t want to fight you, either.”

“Good,” Patton mumbled into his shoulder.

By the time that Roman and Logan returned, the twins were both nearly asleep. Roman got through about five pages before Logan was out as well. The oldest brother put the book on Patton’s bedside table and turned of the lamp that was casting a pale golden light around the periwinkle-colored walls of the bedroom. He had left a note for their mom on the kitchen table to let her know why the first three bedrooms she would check on as she made her way down the hall when she got home were empty.

When she returned from the hospital, exhausted and in a fairly significant amount of pain, the sight of her children curled up together, peacefully asleep, brought a smile to her lips. She blew them each a kiss before slipping out quietly, not wanting to wake them up.

Two years later, the four of them were all sleeping in Patton’s bed again. But now, their mother couldn’t come to check on them. She would never return from the hospital again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, well meaning but obnoxious relatives, implied ableism (Logan, heavily implied in this fic to be autistic, is referred to as a robot), funerals, crying, not eating because of grief, anxiety, OCD, some swearing, mentions of terminal illness (leukemia), thoughts about death.

The doctors said it was an anomaly. They had no idea why her heart had stopped so suddenly and without warning. They had never seen something exactly like it before. Sure, there had been rare instances. But still. It was an anomaly.

The one thing that was already set in place was that Roman would get custody of the other three. He was twenty now--too young, really, for the responsibility of looking after his younger brothers. But they didn't have any close living relatives, and it was better than the possibility of being separated in the foster care system. 

For the week after it happened, Roman pushed through like he was sleepwalking. He put together a small memorial service, made calls to everyone who might need to know. He accepted condolences with grace and politeness. He called Virgil’s therapist and informed him of the circumstances, and then called the director of the play he was in to say that he was quitting. There was no way he could keep his part as the lead in  _ Singin’ in the Rain _ ,  _ and _ his job at the art supply store,  _ and _ take care of the kids,  _ and _ still stay in school part-time.

Virgil had gotten angry about that. “You can't quit the play! You've wanted that part for years!”

“Virgil--"

“I can't believe that you would just give up that role! Mom was so thrilled that you had gotten it--"

“Virgil.”

“You've been in rehearsals for a month already. All that time, you've wasted it!”

“Virgil!” Roman shouted.

Virgil flinched.

Trying to keep his voice calm, not wanting to scare his little brother even more, Roman added, “I just don't have time, Virge. It's hard, but I can't do it.”

“We could make it work,” Virgil said, his eyes filling with tears. “I...I really wanted to see you in that play, Ro.”

“I really wanted to be in it,” Roman replied softly. “Virgil, come here.” He pulled his brother into a hug. “But Virgil, even if I could find time to do everything I need to do with time to spare for rehearsal, I still would have quit. I don't...I wouldn't want to go up for my performance and remember that she's not in the audience and break down onstage. I don't trust myself not to.”

“Oh.” Virgil realized that Roman was fighting back tears himself, and he returned the hug. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…”

“It's okay,” Roman reassured him. “It's okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Virgil countered. “Nothing is fucking  _ okay _ .”

Roman just sighed and held him tighter.

The day of the funeral was the only time Virgil saw Logan actually cry. A fairly distant relative was trying to talk to the 13-year-old and offer him her sympathy, and had gotten upset when Logan refused to acknowledge her. Virgil didn’t hear most of what she said to him to try and get him to answer, but he did hear the last part as he made his way towards them.

“Look at you, you’re not even crying! Are you a little robot or something?” she asked him patronizingly.

Logan looked up sharply, his calm expression turning to fury. “Falsehood!” he shouted, and everyone within earshot turned to stare. “I’m not a  _ robot _ ! Leave me alone!” He stood up and ran towards the door.

Virgil saw both Patton and Roman start to go after him, but he held up his hand and got to the door first to signal that he was handling it.

The walkway outside the funeral home was lined with the brown and red leaves of late fall. The sun was shining brightly despite some grey clouds that dotted the sky, and the sound of a child crying broke the still afternoon air.

“Logan?” Virgil called softly. “Logan, where did you go?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he replied.

“That’s fine,” Virgil answered. He had pinpointed Logan’s voice and was walking around the side of the building. There was a stone bench under some trees where Logan had sat down with his knees pulled to his chest. Virgil joined him, settling down a couple feet away. “We don’t have to talk. But I can’t let you be alone right now.”

Logan had his face hidden in his arms, and he was shaking with quiet sobs. “Robots don’t cry, right?” he choked out.

“No, Lo. Robots don’t cry, but you’re not a robot. She shouldn’t have said that to you.” Virgil decided not to make a remark about Logan not wanting to talk before.

“Then why did she?”

Virgil pursed his lips and exhaled softly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Some people just don’t think about what their words might do before they speak.”

“That’s idiotical.”

“Uh-huh, and people are idiots, Lo. What else is new?”

Logan raised his head and pointed at the tears on his face. “This is,” he said. “I don’t cry.”

“Oh, Logan…”

“It’s stupid,” Logan spat. “I  _ don’t cry _ . Because it’s an illogical emotional response and it doesn’t help anyone or do anything.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m gonna have to call falsehood on that one,” Virgil said gently. “Crying does help sometimes. And it doesn’t have to be illogical.”

Logan squinted. He wiped his eyes, but he was still trembling with the effort of holding back his sobs. “Explain.”

“C’mon, surely you know the science behind it? Tears actually carry out the chemicals that make you feel bad and gets rid of them, and then you feel better,” Virgil said. Or at least, he thought he had read that somewhere. Maybe Dr. Picani had told him? Either way, he was pretty sure it was right.

“Doesn’t make me feel better. Makes me feel worse,” Logan muttered. “I hate crying.”

“Well, holding it in is certainly not going to help at all.” Virgil extended an arm, giving Logan the option to move closer without actually touching him.

Hesitantly, Logan slid over on the bench and leaned against his older brother’s side. “Stupid, too,” he mumbled.

“Nope. It’s not.” Virgil pulled him close, letting Logan’s head fall against his chest. He rubbed his hand up and down the younger boy’s arm. “It's not stupid. It's okay to cry, and it's okay to want to be held.”

“Doesn't make sense--"

“Shhh,” Virgil advised him. “It's okay.”

After a little while, the tension in Logan’s thin frame began to dissipate. He went limp in Virgil's arms and started to cry in earnest, allowing himself to shake with tiny sobs that caught in his throat. He made small, high-pitched whimpering sounds as he cried. It broke Virgil’s heart.

“I've got you,” Virgil whispered. He pulled his little brother into his lap and rocked him back and forth. “Shhh, shh, I've got you. You're gonna be alright. It's okay, just let go. Let yourself cry. I've got you.”

It was over an hour before Logan stopped crying. Virgil made the executive decision that he wasn't going to make the younger boy go back inside at all. The organized part of the funeral was over, anyway. Roman and Patton would cover for them.

Logan began to shiver in the cold fall air. He didn't say anything, but he snuggled closer to Virgil and closed his eyes. None of them had slept well the past week and a half, so it wasn't surprising when Virgil realized that Logan was asleep. He pulled his jacket off and tucked it over his brother like it was a blanket.

When the funeral was over and it was time to go home, Roman came looking for them. Patton was close behind. They found Virgil on the bench with Logan sleeping in his lap.

“I've got him,” Roman said, quietly so as not to wake him. He lifted Logan up and carried him to the car, making sure not to jostle him too much and keeping Virgil's jacket around the boy’s shoulders.

Patton walked next to Virgil with a blank expression. When Virgil asked him softly how he was doing, he responded with a disconcerting smile. “I'm fine,” he assured. “Just tired.”

Virgil let it slide and took his twin’s hand until they reached the car. Patton opted to sit in the back with the sleeping Logan, and Virgil got into the passenger seat. Not a word was spoken by anyone the whole way home.

When they got home, Roman carried Logan inside. He hesitated in the hallway, looking around as he tried to figure out which bedroom to bring him into. They had all been sleeping in either his bed or Patton’s since it had happened, but Patton seemed quiet and withdrawn. Roman decided to bring Logan to his own room. Even if Patton and Virgil decided to stay by themselves tonight, Roman didn't want to leave Logan alone.

Meanwhile, Virgil was trying to get Patton to eat something. He wasn't very successful.

“I'm just not very hungry,” Patton claimed. He kept inching towards the front door. Virgil blocked his way.

“You haven't eaten all day. I let breakfast slide because...well, I don't think any of us had much of an appetite. But then you didn't have anything at lunch either, and now it's almost seven, and you need food.”

“I'm fine!” Patton insisted. “I'm really not hungry.”

“I honestly don't care? You still need to eat. Hey! Stop moving towards the door, where do you think you're going?”

“I need some air,” he mumbled. “Don't make a big deal out of this.”

“It  _ is _ a big deal! I don't like that you're trying to leave right now. It makes me really worried.” Virgil blocked his way again, stepping right in front of the door.

“Virgil, move.”

“No! You're not leaving. Go sit down and tell me what you'd be willing to eat, and I'll get it for you.”

“You don't have to take care of me!” Patton exclaimed.

Virgil stared. “Um...yeah, I do? I'm your brother, Pat. And you take care of me all the time. It does go both ways, you know. What would you say if you knew I wasn't doing well but told you to let me leave the house, especially without telling you where I was going?”

Patton hesitated. “I would probably pin you down and hug you until you gave up,” he admitted. “But I'm fine! See, I'm smiling at you. I'm fine.”

“I hope you know how little I trust that smile right now. C’mon, Pat, I'm not letting you go off by yourself.” Virgil tried to put his arm around Patton’s waist to lead him back towards the couch.

But Patton flinched and pulled away from him. That gave Virgil pause. Patton was almost always okay with being touched.

“Patton?”

“I'm fine,” Patton said in a small voice. “Virge, please? I'm fine.”

“I…” Virgil groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Pat, it would really scare me if you went outside on your own right now. I'm not gonna try to hold you back, but…”

“Okay. I won't go outside.” Patton turned and headed towards his bedroom.

“Patton, please at least eat something!” Virgil requested, following him.

“I'm not hungry!”

Roman poked his head out of Logan’s room and held a finger to his lips. “What is going on, you two?” he whispered.

Patton took advantage of the momentary distraction and stepped into his room, closing the door. Virgil heard a click, and realized that his twin had locked the door.

“Patton! Let me in!” Virgil hissed. “You shouldn't be alone.”

“I'm  _ fine _ ! I just want to be left alone!” Patton cried.

“Patton!”

“Hey,” Roman said quickly. “Hey, Virge, it's fine. If he needs some time alone, he can have it.”

“I don't like it,” Virgil said.

“I know, but sometimes...sometimes we need to be alone for a little while. Leave him be, it's alright. We'll check on him tomorrow morning.” Roman ushered Virgil into Logan’s room but hesitated outside Patton’s door for a moment. “Patton, we won't come in. But please leave the door unlocked, honey. I'm not comfortable with it locked.”

“Fine,” Patton answered, and there was a soft click as he unlocked the door.

“Thank you, Pat. We're in Logan’s room if you want to come. If not, sleep well, and we'll see you in the morning.” Roman put his hand on the door. “I love you, Patton. Goodnight.”

Patton sniffed. “Love you, too,” he whispered. Roman let his hand linger on the door for a few more seconds and then turned away.

In Logan’s room, Virgil was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a pillow in his lap and one of Logan’s weighted blankets around his shoulders. He gazed up at the ceiling. Small glow-in-the-dark stars were scattered there in perfect replicas of constellations. “Remember Logan’s twelfth birthday?” Virgil whispered. “Mom got him these and she got out the ladder and put them all up herself while Lo gave her instructions.”

“I remember.”

“He doesn't like birthdays because they're an outdated tradition that seems silly now that living another year as a kid nowadays isn't something special,” continued Virgil. “But she always knew exactly what to get him that would make him forget how much he didn't like the whole celebration.”

“I know,” Roman reiterated.

“What are we gonna do without her, Roman?”

“Just keep going, I guess,” answered Roman. He sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed down Logan’s hair. The youngest boy was still fast asleep. “I'll take care of you. You don't have to worry.”

“You shouldn't have to take care of us, Ro, you're barely...barely even an adult. Hell, you can't rent a car yet. You can't legally  _ drink _ yet.”

Roman laughed. It wasn't happy. It sounded almost bitter. “Still, I'm going to take care of you. We'll be alright.”

“I hope you're right, because I don't feel anywhere near alright.” Virgil laid down on the floor and hugged the pillow to his chest. “Toss me another pillow, would you?”

“Aren't you going to come up here with us?” Roman asked, surprised. “I know it's only a single bed, but we can fit.”

“No, I'm staying down here,” Virgil said firmly. He knew that he would be able to fit on the bed, but it would be a tight squeeze. And if Patton decided to come in, there wouldn't be any room left for him. This way, Patton wouldn't be forced to sleep on the floor alone if he came in after everyone else was asleep. He could just lay down next to Virgil on the floor and share his blanket.

Roman seemed to get it. “Oh. Alright, then. Here, have this pillow.” He set the extra pillow down by Virgil’s head. “Sleep well.”

“Sleep well. Love you, Ro.”

“Love you, too, Virgil.”

Virgil didn't fall asleep for a long time. He watched the stars as they faded completely into darkness, and then lay awake for a while longer. Deep down, he was hoping that Patton would come in. But he never did, and so Virgil finally fell into a fretful sleep that ended all too quickly with the sun rising.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, self-harm, a knife (not used ‘on-screen, heavily implied to be used for cutting oneself), depression, suicidal thoughts and possible intent, potential suicide notes, hiding depression and self-harm from family, grief, crying, not eating and losing weight because of grief, fake smiles, shouting, anxiety, OCD, passing out, some swearing, thoughts about death.

Logan had insisted that he could go back to school. He had just started as a freshman at the same high school that Virgil and Patton still attended as seniors. And since Virgil was loathe to let his little brother return to school alone, he went with him. Patton had quietly stated that he needed a little more time, and that was fine. He joined them the next week, and all seemed well.

It wasn't.

Looking back, Virgil knew that he should have seen the signs sooner. Much sooner. But for whatever reason, whatever bullshit excuse  _ (should have noticed, should have done something, it was right there and I didn't see it, almost got him killed) _ , he didn't see it. Maybe he didn't want to see it.

Over about a month after the funeral, Patton lost the bit of chub around his tummy that he had always loved. He had said it made him more comfortable to cuddle with, and Virgil had to agree with him. But it had disappeared now.

It wasn't that Patton stopped eating completely. He still ate  _ enough _ , it wasn't life-threatening or even all that worrisome. Virgil had looked it up, and apparently a decrease in appetite was a fairly normal reaction to grief as intense as this. It wasn't a dangerous problem as long as he was still eating enough to be healthy, and he was. It was fine.

Except it wasn't.

Patton didn't come and crawl into bed next to Virgil anymore like he used to whenever something was upsetting him. He wouldn't push him away the nights that Virgil came to him, but he didn't initiate it. They didn't talk about it. It was fine.

Except it wasn't.

There was a bright, happy smile on his face, all the time. He laughed with his friends and made dumb jokes, and to an outsider looking at him, he would appear to be a fairly happy 17 year old. Unless you looked too closely at his eyes, he seemed perfectly fine.

He wasn't.

Virgil found him sitting on the couch one day, wearing a dark sweatshirt that he was pretty sure Patton had stolen from him. But that didn't concern him as much as the red mark he could see on the back of Patton’s wrist. He snatched the hand up quickly to examine it.

“Virgil!” Patton cried. He yanked his hand away, startled. “What the--"

“What happened to your hand? You've got a cut there."

“I--I was playing with the stray cat down the street and she scratched me,” Patton said quickly.

Virgil made a face. “You're allergic to cats. You shouldn't be playing with them in the first place, let alone letting yourself get scratched. Here, give me your hand, I can clean it for you.”

“I already cleaned it.” Patton tugged his sleeve down to cover his hands more fully. “Don't worry about it.” He smiled. “And I'm not going to stop playing with cats.”

“It's your lungs that are gonna swell up like balloons,” Virgil muttered. He let it go. He shouldn't have. Patton covered it so well. He seemed fine.

He definitely, definitely wasn't.

To be entirely honest, Virgil was upset at how okay Patton seemed. He didn't see him cry once after the funeral. Patton didn't want to talk about anything, and he would make jokes and change the subject whenever it strayed too close to a serious topic. And Virgil was sick of it. 

He hated himself for how angry he got when he saw Patton grin at a dumb pun. He sort of figured out that he was  _ jealous _ , as awful as that was, of his twin for being able to still be happy after what had happened. But he didn't let himself think about that. He didn't even tell Dr. Picani, and he had told the therapist pretty much every dark thought that his OCD put into his head. But this wasn't the disorder. This was just him being a terrible person, and he didn't want to say it out loud.

But one day it was too much, and he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out.

He didn't even remember the joke that had made him snap, but he remembered Patton’s laughter and the startled gasp as Virgil spun on him and shouted, “What is  _ wrong _ with you?”

Patton stumbled backwards. His eyes were wide with shock. “Wh-what?” he stuttered. “Virgil?”

“How the hell are you laughing? And making jokes? Please, explain, because I just don't understand how you can be so happy. Share your goddamn secrets, Pat!”

“I...I don't…”

“ _ God _ , it's like you don't even care!” Virgil exclaimed. “Do you think we'd act like this if  _ you _ died? Back to laughing and making jokes before the month is even over?”

There was a couple seconds of agonizing silence. Patton’s eyes stared straight ahead, and suddenly Virgil could see the deep, burning pain there that his twin had tried so hard to hide. “Yeah. I hope so,” Patton said. “I really hope so.”

Before Virgil could respond to that, Patton had fled. The front door slammed behind him and the wind chimes on the porch rang out as Patton knocked into them in his haste.

By the time Virgil had wrenched himself out of stunned stillness, Patton was nowhere to be seen. The porch was empty, and Virgil rushed down the street in bare feet to look for him. Where the street ended and the long, winding road that bordered the thin strip of forest and grassland along the side of the river began, Virgil stopped, shivering. “Patton!” he called. His voice sounded thin and empty in the chilly November air. “Patton!”

There was no answer. Virgil started to shiver, his body heat leaving him through the soles of his feet into the cold asphalt road. Trying not to panic, he turned and ran home. Roman would be home from work in a little less than an hour, he would know what to do.

Virgil found himself standing at the door to Patton’s room. Something told him that he needed to go inside. Feeling a little sick about the thought of invading his twin’s privacy but needing to figure out if there was any hint in his room as to where he might have run, Virgil opened the door and turned on the light.

Everything seemed normal. The turquoise comforter on the bed was pulled up slightly messily, and the usual pile of pillows and plushies was there as well. His bookshelf was, as always, a complete mess. An extremely eclectic mix of books were stacked every which way. The collection included many of the kid books that all the brothers had far outgrown, but Patton refused to get rid of, placed right alongside the classic novels that Patton loved so much because he insisted that the authors had a deep understanding of how people worked. Virgil had never liked those. He preferred science fiction--better escapism there.

Patton’s closet was slightly open. Virgil wasn't going to go look, but a small box on the lowest shelf caught his eye. It was just plain brown cardboard, nothing special, but most of Patton’s boxes were brightly decorated with sparkly ink and plastic gems and quirky stickers. It seemed out of place. Virgil opened the closet and picked the box up.

It was heavier than it looked. Virgil’s heart dropped at the sight of what was inside.

The first thing he saw was a razor blade, like one of the knives used to slice open packing tape on boxes. That alone made Virgil fall to his knees, shaking with horror. The rest of the box was filled with bandaids, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a couple bottles of concealer and foundation. Virgil remembered the “cat scratch" that Patton had hidden with his sleeve. He could barely breathe. He felt like throwing up.

At the bottom of the box was a small, plain notebook. Virgil pulled it out, flinching as his hand brushed the base of the blade. His eyes were filled with tears as he tried to make out the scribbled writing smudged with what was probably blood. Most of it was crossed out or unintelligible, but Virgil got a few phrases here and there.

_ I can't let them see this part. _

_ This is the third time this week. I can't stop. _

_ They'd be so scared if they found out. I can't let them see… _

_ I wish it would just  _ _ stop _ _. _

_ I can't even eat anything today.  _

_ It doesn't make me feel better, but I can't not do it again. _

_ Is this what it feels like for him? _

_ I'm so sorry, mama. I know you'd be so worried, but I'm fine. _

_ I have to be the strong one, but sometimes the smile is just too hard to keep up. _

_ I wish I could tell him _ _ I'm sorry, Virgil _

There was one passage that was completely clear. Gasping for air through ragged sobs, Virgil read it.

_ I wonder what it would feel like to just step into the river and let it carry me away. Maybe that would be easier. There was that one spot that we used to go, where the rocks formed a sort of cave that was just big enough for Lo to crawl into but Ro used to insist that a dragon lived there and that he was going to fight it. I slipped into the river there once, when I wasn't even supposed to be out. It was so cold. It made me feel numb, even for hours after I had gotten out of the water. I wish I could feel that numb again. How long would I have to stay in the water for it to wash me empty? If I lost my footing, I could be carried away all the way down to the sea. I'd just be another missing teenager, but really I'd be out in the ocean, and maybe it'd be peaceful there. Maybe mama would be there, too. _

Virgil shoved the notebook back into the box and into the closet. He was hyperventilating as he forced his feet into shoes and grabbed his jacket, running back outside as fast as he could.  _ Please don't pass out, please don't pass out _ , he begged himself, trying so hard to keep breathing.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he ran and called Roman.

“Virgil! I'm not off work for another twenty minutes, this had better be--"

“Patton, it's Patton, he's hurting himself and I don't know where he is, I think he might have gone down to the river and I'm going to find him but you gotta come home, Ro, you gotta come home and get Logan from the library and I'm so scared, I'm so scared, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say what I said and I didn't see it--oh, god, I didn't see it and it's my fault, it'll be  _ my fault _ \--"

Roman was trying to interrupt him, asking questions and begging him to slow down. “Virgil! What do you mean, Patton’s hurting himself?”

“Box in his closet, he's got a blade, he's been cutting himself, I didn't see--I  _ did _ , but he told me it was a fucking cat, Roman, I swear, I never thought he would be--" Still running through the woods towards the place by the river that Patton had described in the notebook, Virgil tripped over a rock and fell backwards. His phone clattered out of his hand and onto the ground. With the wind knocked completely out of him, he lay there stunned. His eyesight went blurry and turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, self-harm, non-graphic description of injuries and blood, depression, suicidal intent, suicide attempt by a family member, mention of drowning and hypothermia, hiding depression and self-harm from family, shouting, anxiety, OCD, passing out, thoughts about death.

Virgil opened his eyes and immediately grabbed for his phone. It was covered in dirt, but he pressed it to his ear.

Roman was shouting. “Virgil! Virgil! Answer me, damn it, answer me!”

“How long,” Virgil panted. “How long, Ro, I passed out, how long--"

“You stopped talking almost a minute ago!”

“Good, not too long.” _Still might be too long. Might be too late._ Virgil scrambled to his feet and started running again. There was a sharp pain in his knee, and he had torn the skin on his palm and scraped up his side when he had fallen, but he didn't care.

“Virgil!” Roman cried. “Virgil, I'm on my way home. What did you mean about the river?”

“His journal, he wrote--" Virgil wasn't used to running this fast and he was having a very hard time speaking through his hyperventilating. “Wrote about the--the river, and the dragon cave, and letting the river take him, and--it's my fault, shouldn't have said--oh, god, all my fault--"

“Virgil, I'm in my car, putting you on speakerphone. Keep talking to me, breathe.”

“Can't breathe, have to find him.”

“Are you sure that's where he would have gone?”

“I think so.” Somehow, Virgil was almost positive. But Roman wouldn't understand. “I'm almost th-there, I'll be able to see it soon, I--"

“Tell me the second you find him,” Roman demanded. “If he's hurt, if you think he's in any danger, you call 911.”

“I know--" Virgil burst through the trees and stumbled out onto the riverbank. The old ‘dragon cave’ by the water was a few yards away. He would have been impressed with himself for remembering the way so accurately if he hadn't been so preoccupied. He scanned the river. It was fairly low, but icy cold and hid a dangerously strong current. People drowned in it every year.

And then he saw him. Standing in the very center of the river with only his head above water, Patton was facing the opposite bank. The rushing sound of the water almost covered Virgil’s scream as he dropped his phone and sprinted towards the water, throwing his jacket up onto the dry part of the bank and kicking his shoes off as he ran.

The water hit him like a wall of ice, and he almost stopped in his tracks as his body seized up against the cold. But he pressed on. Nearly losing his footing several times, not stopping to think about how dangerous this was or about the probably filthy water that was splashing into his mouth, he struggled through the river to reach his twin.

“Patton!” he screamed. “Patton, I'm here!”

Slowly, Patton turned around. His expression was blank, his eyes red from crying. His lips moved. The words weren't audible, but it was obvious that he was mouthing, “Virgil?”

And then Virgil reached him and threw his arms around him. Dragging him back to the bank, he could feel Patton’s body trembling violently. “I've got you, I've got you,” he kept saying. “Hold on for me, I've got you, you're safe, I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe now.”

As Virgil hauled him up onto dry ground with strength he didn't know he had, Patton started coughing. He collapsed onto the ground the second that Virgil couldn't hold him up completely anymore. Both of them were sobbing.

Virgil picked his phone off the ground first and shouted, “I've got him!”

“Safe? Is he alright?” It was clear that Roman was trying to keep it together, but was absolutely terrified.

“I think he will be.”

“Where are you? I'm almost home.”

“By the old dragon c-cave. B-bring--" Virgil’s teeth were chattering. “B-bring d-dry clothes and b-blankets, we're b-b-both c-c-c-cold and wet.”

“Are you hypothermic?” Roman asked. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Virgil pulled Patton into his lap and held him tightly. His twin was shaking uncontrollably, but that was a good sign. He hadn't yet gotten to the point where he was no longer able to shiver, so he probably didn't have anything more than mild hypothermia. “D-don't think so. Think he'll b-be okay.”

“Keep yourselves warm. Talk to him. I'll be there as soon as I possibly can, and I'll call Logan and tell him to come home.” The library was only two blocks from their house, and Logan liked to walk there and back. “And _please_ stay safe,” Roman added. “Oh, god. I can't...I can't _lose_ you two.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “C-call Logan. I'll see you s-soon.” He put his phone down. He couldn't have held it for much longer anyway with how badly his hands were shaking.

Patton was still coughing and wheezing, his entire body convulsing with sobs and shivers. “Virge--" he managed. “Oh--I'm s-so s-s-sorry, I--"

“Shhh, shhhh,” Virgil soothed. “D-don't apologize. Oh, god, _I'm_ the one who n-needs to ap-p-pologize, god, I'm so sorry, I sh-shouldn’t have s-said any of what I s-said, Patton, I'm so sorry, please, I should have seen how b-badly you were hurting, sh-should have d-done something to help you, I…” He couldn't say anything else.

“N-no, I h-h-hid it, you c-c-couldn't have--" Patton suddenly broke off as he curled in on himself with a whimper.

Virgil knew that he needed to get Patton warm as quickly as he could. He propped Patton up against himself and unzipped the water-logged sweatshirt that Patton was wearing. He didn't have anything on underneath, and Virgil bit back a gasp as he saw the extent of the shallow cuts on Patton’s arms. “Oh, Patton--"

“I'm s-sorry, Virgil.”

“Shhh, shhh, don't.” Virgil shook his head helplessly. “Got to get you out of the wet things, or you'll never warm up,” he muttered, remembering his first aid training. He let Patton lay back against the ground for a second to pull off his shoes and socks and khaki pants. Then he grabbed his own sweatshirt, grateful that he had thought to take it off before diving into the water, and wrapped it around Patton. “You're gonna be okay,” he said. “You're gonna be okay, Patton, we're going to get you help and you're gonna be okay, you never have to hide from us again, I promise, you're gonna be okay.”

Patton didn't acknowledge him. He pulled the dry sweatshirt around his shoulders and sobbed. Virgil wanted nothing more than to hold him, but he was still soaking wet and he knew that he would only make Patton colder. He settled for reaching out and rubbing his hands down Patton’s back and shoulders to warm him up. He kept murmuring nonsense reassurances through his own tears, wishing Roman would hurry up.

Just a few minutes later, Roman’s voice came calling through the trees. “Virgil! Virgil, where are you?”

“Here!” The scream of relief tore from his throat as he started sobbing afresh. Roman was here. Everything was going to be okay.

Roman rushed up to them, carrying a bag full of towels and clothing and blankets. He dropped down and pulled Patton close. “Oh, honey,” he whispered. “You scared me so bad, Patton. Don't ever do that again.”

“I'm s-sorry, Ro-ro,” Patton stammered, the old childish nickname slipping out. “‘m so s-sorry.”

“Shhh,” Roman breathed. He rocked Patton back and forth. “You're so cold, Patty. Let's get you warm, okay?” He wrapped Patton’s wet hair in a towel, rubbing it as dry as he could.

Virgil drew his knees up to his chest as Roman swathed Patton in a soft blanket. He was still shivering and crying quietly, but he knew that Patton needed the attention quicker.

As soon as Roman was satisfied that Patton wasn't about to freeze to death, his focus turned to Virgil and he held out his arms. “Come here,” he said softly.

Trembling, Virgil moved closer. He hadn't noticed before because of his rush of adrenaline, but the scrapes from where he had fallen were bleeding pretty badly, and they stung. Roman hugged him gently, and he burst into tears.

“Okay, okay. It's gonna be okay.” Roman ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair while still holding the blanket-wrapped Patton close. “Goodness, you're freezing as well. I'm going to get you into dry clothes, and then the most important thing is to get you two inside.” He was pretty much talking to himself at that point, and he dug through the bag of clothing and blankets.

Suddenly, Virgil got very lightheaded. The combination of cold, panic, and pain had gotten to him, and he knew he was about to pass out. “Roman?”

“What is it--oh!”

Virgil barely had time to feel Roman's arms around him before he fell unconscious.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, self-harm, non-graphic description of injuries, blood, first aid, hospital mention, panic attacks, depression, suicidal intent, suicide attempt by a family member, mention of drowning and hypothermia, guilt, hiding depression and self-harm from family, brief mention of contamination/ pathogens, shouting, anxiety, OCD, passing out, thoughts about death.

Virgil felt himself being carried before he fully woke back up. A soft fleece blanket was covering his whole body. “‘s Pat okay?” he mumbled as soon as he could speak.

The movement stopped. “Virgil?”

“Patton. Is he okay?” Virgil repeated.

Roman let out a sigh of relief. “He's walking right next to me, Virgil. We're almost home.”

“Put me down, I can walk,” Virgil insisted, opening his eyes. “Shouldn't b-be carrying _me_ , Patton is…”

“I know, but I couldn't just leave you there and I can't carry you both,” Roman said. He placed Virgil down on the ground, holding him upright until he was sure that he wouldn't fall right back down.

Virgil immediately reached towards Patton, who was wearing a large red sweater that Virgil knew was Roman’s, and had a towel around his neck and a blanket draped around his shoulders. He had on a pair of sweatpants and thick socks, but no shoes. His eyes were half-closed. “Pat?” Virgil asked tentatively, putting his hand on his twin’s cheek. Patton leaned into the touch, but didn't say anything.

Roman picked him up in the same way he had just been carrying Virgil, with one arm under the knees and one under the back. “We're almost home,” he said again. “Can you make it, Virgil?”

“Uh-huh.” His legs were shaky, his knee ached, and he barely had the energy to stand, but he could keep putting one foot in front of the other until they made it home. He pressed close to Roman’s side as they walked.

“I've told Logan what happened. He's gotten home already and he's being Logan and looking up all sorts of ways to warm someone up after being in cold water,” Roman told him. “We'll deal with everything else afterwards.”

Virgil didn't argue. He was barely aware of reaching the end of the trees and walking across the road to the house. The door opened before they even reached it, and Logan rushed towards them. “Are you alright?” he demanded of Virgil. “Is Patton?”

“We're going to be fine,” Virgil said tiredly. Logan was pulling them inside. The first thing that Virgil noticed was that the heater must have been turned up, because the house was very warm. The kettle was whistling, and Logan ran to go and turn it off.

“There's blankets and fresh clothes in the dryer to make them warm,” Logan called. “But it's probably a good idea to wash the dirt and river water off first.”

 _I am a bit muddy_ , Virgil realized as he looked down at himself. Patton was probably the same way.

“It's safe for them to shower?” Roman asked.

“I’ve already filled the bathtub with warm water. You can run more, but don't make the water too hot. Just a little bit warm.” Logan was pouring the boiling water from the kettle into the largest mugs they owned. “I've got tea going. It's most important to warm them up from the inside out.”

Roman carried Patton into the bathroom. Virgil didn't follow them. He was still shivering a little. He couldn't walk any further, so he just sank down onto the couch and closed his eyes.

A nudge on his shoulder a few seconds later made him jump. “You can't fall asleep yet,” Logan told him. “It's not safe. Drink this.” He sat down next to Virgil and gave him one of the mugs. It had a chamomile teabag still in it, and a few ice cubes that were almost melted.

“I'm fine, Logan, it's not so bad that it's not safe to close my eyes,” Virgil tried to reassure him.

“I don't care. Drink the tea.”

Virgil obliged him. The tea had a bit of sugar in it, and the ice cubes had made it just a little bit warmer than lukewarm, but it still felt hot in his throat. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Don't go to sleep. I'll be right back.” Logan stood up and headed down the hallway.

Virgil did his best not to let his eyes close again but to be honest, the chamomile tea wasn't helping. He kept taking sips until the whole mug was empty, and he actually felt almost warm. His eyes drifted shut, his grip loosening on the mug.

“Roman is almost done getting Patton clean,” Logan announced right next to Virgil’s ear.

“Jeez!” Virgil flinched and almost dropped the mug.

“I told you not to fall asleep!” Logan chastised.

“I didn't, I promise.” Virgil put the mug down on the coffee table. “I'm just really tired. Sorry, Lo.”

“When they're done in the bathroom, you're going to take a shower or just sit in the tub if you don't have the energy to stand,” Logan said. “And I'll get the clothes out of the dryer for you. And _then_ you can sleep."

Virgil opted for the sitting down option. He sat in the bottom of the tub and let the warm water from the showerhead spray down and wash the mud off him. The water blended with the tears that streamed down his cheeks as he played his words to Patton over and over in his head. _“What is wrong with you?...It's like you don't even care. Do you think we'd act like this if_ you _died?”_

_“Yeah, I hope so.”_

Virgil sobbed into his arms, tilting his head forward so the water sprayed onto his back. It burned against the wide scrape down his ribs, which was still bleeding a little. After a long time, he turned the water off and dried off with the warm towels that Logan had brought him. He pulled on the pair of fuzzy pajama pants but just held a blanket around himself instead of putting on a shirt because he knew the scrape had to be attended to.

From Roman’s bedroom, he could hear quiet sobbing. He paused outside the door, aching to go inside and try to help comfort his twin, but he was pretty sure that he would make things worse. After all, he was the one who had caused this in the first place. He went inside his own bedroom instead and sat on the bed. _I should try to fix up the scrape_ , he thought dully, but he didn't move.

After a few minutes, Logan stepped into the room. “Patton is asking for you,” he said.

“I shouldn't go see him,” Virgil muttered. “He's better off without me.”

“I don't believe that's true,” Logan said. “And he clearly doesn’t either, because he's asking for you. Crying, actually, and Roman can't get him to calm down. He needs you.”

Virgil could hear hiccupy sobs coming from down the hallway. He felt a pang as he heard his own name being whimpered out, and hurried out of his room and over to Roman’s door. He hesitated before knocking, even though the door was only partially closed.

“Come in,” Roman said.

Stepping inside, Virgil took in the sight of Roman cradling Patton, who was covered in warm blankets and crying his heart out, in his lap. As soon as Patton saw Virgil, he reached out desperately. “Virge, I--”

Virgil darted forward and sprang up onto the bed to embrace his twin. “I'm here,” he whispered. “Shhh, now, I've got you. There, I've got you.”

Patton calmed down almost immediately, relaxing into Virgil’s arms. “I'm so sorry.”

“Please, don't,” Virgil begged. “Don't apologize, please. Just…”

Roman looked incredibly relieved that Patton was no longer crying so violently. “Virgil, thank you, I wasn't sure you would come.”

“Of course, I didn't--I thought I wasn't going to be good for him right now, but…” Virgil kissed the top of Patton’s head and pulled him closer. “I've got you. I've got you. I'll never make you feel like you have to hide again,” he breathed.

“I...I’m going to say the obvious here,” Roman started. “But I think we need to bring Patton to the hospital.”

Patton let out a piercing cry and pressed himself as close to Virgil as physically possible, babbling, “No, no, don't take me there, please, I can't go back I can't go back I can't, I can't, I can't--"

“Shhhh,” Virgil soothed quickly. “Oh, Patty, shhhh, it's okay, it's okay.”

“Please, please, don't make me go,” he wailed. “I can't go back there, I can't, don't make me, please, don't make me, please…”

Virgil rocked him slowly, rubbing his back in a desperate attempt to calm him down. “Shhh, now, shhh, it's alright.” He met Roman’s eyes and knew that Roman understood why his words had gotten the reaction that they had. _He can't go back to where Mom died._ “We won't make you, shhh, it's alright.”

“You can't promise him that,” Roman said tensely. “It might be the safest option.”

Again, Patton wailed wordlessly and tightened his hold on Virgil, who winced. “Roman, he's panicking at the _thought_ of going there,” Virgil snapped. “They would have to literally sedate him if we brought him, is that what you want? Do you think that would help? No, it wouldn't. We'd just be betraying his trust.” He softened his voice and tried to reassure Patton again. “Listen to me, Patty, nobody is going to bring you anywhere you don't want to go. I've got you. I've got you. I won't let anything happen.”

“Well, what do you think we should do then? I can't just--” Roman’s voice broke.

“Call Dr. Picani,” Virgil said easily. “We've got his emergency number. This definitely qualifies as an emergency. Tell him what happened and ask him what he thinks we should do.”

Some of the tension left Roman’s body at the idea of going to an adult (he _was_ an adult, but that sure as hell didn't mean he knew what he was doing) and letting them tell him what to do. Virgil realized something that he should have already known, but was too preoccupied to think about; Roman was afraid. “I'll do that,” Roman said. He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Can you take care of Patton?”

Virgil looked down at the shuddering body in his arms. “I can take care of him. I've got him.”

Roman stood up. “Then I'll make the call. Oh!” He had noticed the angry red scrape on Virgil’s side. “Oh, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot about that!”

“It's okay, I'm not gonna die from it. Call Dr. Picani, and then we can worry about me,” Virgil said. He was fairly calm, to his own and everyone else's surprise. “I've got Patton.”

“Virgil, I love you so much.” Roman leaned down and hugged both of the twins quickly before he went to make the call.

Settling back against the elaborate wooden headboard on Roman’s bed, Virgil adjusted his hold on Patton so the injury on his side wasn't being aggravated as much. Patton was still breathing too quickly and crying about the thought of the hospital. “Patton,” Virgil said softly. “Hey, there. Can you listen to me for a minute?”

“Uh-huh,” Patton panted after a moment.

“That's good, that's good. Focus on my voice. You're safe, and we're here, and everything is going to be okay. I promise.” Virgil stroked his back. “Hey, do you remember the breathing tool I taught you to help me out? Can I count it for you, sweetheart? Do you think you could do that?”

“I can try,” Patton sniffled.

“Thank you, that makes me feel very happy. Okay, so it's going to be breathing in for four seconds, hold for seven, and then out for eight,” Virgil reminded him. “Gonna start now. In, two, three, four…”

As he counted quietly, he could hear Roman on the phone outside the room. “Yes, he's not hurt...He was just cold and we've got him warm and safe now…” His voice faded and grew louder as he paced up and down the hall. Virgil could only hear part of what he was saying. “...be better if we don't take him to the hospital, then?...Yes, I know...Yes, we can do that, absolutely. We won't leave his side for an instant...Of course, tomorrow is Sunday...No, Monday is fine, it's Thanksgiving break, so none of us would even have to miss our classes...You do? That's wonderful, thank you so much...Yes, I'll tell him…Thank you, Dr. Picani, we really appreciate it. Bye!” Roman came back into the room a few seconds later.

Virgil kept his voice level and calm as he asked, “What did he say?”

“He agrees that under the circumstances, we shouldn't take him to the hospital. He made time for us to bring Patton in to see him on Monday,” Roman said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching out to rub Patton’s back softly. “Patty, does that seem okay to you?”

“B-but he's Virgil’s therapist,” Patton mumbled.

“I'm more than willing to share,” Virgil told him. “Especially because you already know him and like him. He can help.”

“I don't know…”

“Would you rather see someone else?” Roman offered.

“No,” Patton said quickly. “No, if I h-have to...then I wouldn't m-mind Dr. Picani.”

“You definitely have to, honey,” Roman said gently. “You're sick, and we need you to be okay.”

“That's what I was trying to do!” Patton said with a catch in his voice. “You need me to be okay, so I was okay, and I just wanted to make sure you were happy and _I'm_ the happy one, so I had to--"

Virgil shushed him quickly. “Patton, no, shhh. We need you to _actually_ be okay, not just pretending. And sometimes that means not hiding, so that we know what's going on, so we can help.”

“I know,” Patton whimpered. “I'm r-really sorry.”

“Shhhh,” Virgil said again. “Patton...you don't have to keep apologizing. _I'm_ sorry. I'm so sorry that I couldn't see...didn't _want_ to see how badly you were hurting, and what I said to you…”

“Wasn't your fault,” Patton mumbled. He nestled his head against Virgil’s chest.

“Yeah, it was. If I hadn't gotten so upset at you…” Virgil broke off with a tight sob.

“No, Virgil...I...I think...I would have d-done it eventually anyway.” Patton managed to actually look up and meet his eyes. “You...you _saved_ me. If you hadn't…”

“I found the box in your closet,” Virgil burst out. “I know it led me to you, but I feel awful for invading your privacy like that, I'm really sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Patton said, and Virgil realized that was what he needed to hear.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and he buried his face in Patton’s damp hair. “I love you, Patton, I don't know what I'd do without you. You scared me so, so bad.”

“‘m sorry.”

“Hey. I forgive you, too, just...promise you won't _hide_ from me anymore.”

“I'll try.”

That was good enough for now. Virgil felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Roman.

“Can I take a look at the scrape on your side?” he asked. “Logan is finding our first aid kit.”

“Yeah, okay. I scratched up my palm pretty bad, too,” Virgil added, holding his hand out for Roman to inspect.

Roman winced at the raw skin. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it stung badly. “Ouch.”

“Yep. And I twisted my knee a little bit, but it isn't too bad.” Virgil shifted how he was holding Patton so that his side was exposed for Roman to look at. “Here, can I move you over like this? Don't worry, I won't let go of you or anything, I just need to get this taken care of.”

Patton snuggled up against Virgil’s uninjured side, nodding. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit,” Virgil admitted. “A pretty large bit.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

“Ohhh…” Virgil almost started crying again. “Are _you_ really trying to take care of _me_ right now?”

“Uh-huh.”

Virgil flinched suddenly as Roman’s hand brushed against his scrape, sending a wave of pain across the broken skin. “Yeah, I wanna hold your hand,” he said.

Patton grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Gotcha,” he said.

As Logan came into the room carrying the large red first aid kit, Virgil let out a whine, not particularly looking forward to having the scrape cleaned out. Roman was as gentle as he could be, but the antiseptic burned so badly that Virgil couldn't stop a few tears and breathy sobs from escaping him.

“Shhh, shhh,” Patton told him. “I know, I know, I know. I'm here, Virgil, I've got you.”

“It really hurts,” Virgil gasped.

“I'm so sorry, Virgil, it'll be over soon,” Roman promised.

Virgil did his best not to pull away from the painful touch. He squeezed Patton’s hand and tried to breathe evenly, hiding his face in his twin’s shoulder. He let out a strangled cry of pain as Roman began to clean the cuts on his palm. “Oh!”

“I know,” Roman said, sounding pretty upset himself. “I'm sorry, Virge, I know it hurts. Oh, please don't pull away, please, I don't want to have to hold you still.”

Shaking with effort, Virgil kept his throbbing hand still as Roman held his wrist gently and finished up. “Is it over?” he asked.

“Just putting a bit of gauze over your side and wrapping the hand, it's too big for a bandaid,” Roman said. “I think the worst is over, Virgil.”

“Thank you--ow!” Virgil yelped as Roman smoothed down the gauze over the large scrape.

“Sorry,” Roman apologized quickly. “I didn't mean to press so hard. Give me your hand again.”

Wrinkling his nose, Virgil put his hand out again. Roman was more careful this time as he wrapped a clean bandage around his palm. “Is it over?” Virgil whined again.

“Now it is. There, all done.” Roman placed Virgil’s hand down. “Now let's get a shirt on you, okay?”

“I've got one,” Logan piped up. He had been sitting in Roman’s desk chair silently, but now he came up to the bed and held out a soft long-sleeve t-shirt.

“Thanks, Logan.” Virgil pulled it on, wincing.

Patton sighed softly and closed his eyes. “I'm so tired,” he said. “Should I...go to my room?”

“Silly question,” Virgil informed him. “We're all staying right here.”

“Virgil is right, you're both staying where I can see you,” Roman agreed. “Until I'm positive that neither of you are going to get sick from being in the river. Do you know how many germs could have been in that water?”

Logan opened his mouth, probably about to share a fun fact about pathogen concentration in river water, then decided better of it.

Virgil snorted quietly. “Oh, for goodness sake, Ro, you’re starting to sound like _me_ , and that’s not a good thing. Let us sleep, will you?” His slight joking tone only partially hid how exhausted he was.

“Sorry.” Roman reached out and touched Virgil’s cheek. “You can go to sleep if you want, unless you think you can eat something tonight. I'm not going to _make_ you eat anything until tomorrow morning, though.”

His stomach turning at the thought of food, Virgil glanced down at Patton. “Patty?”

“Can't right now,” Patton said. “‘m sorry.”

“It's okay, I don't think I can either.” Virgil started to pull down the covers to slide underneath them.

“I've got it,” Roman said swiftly. He pulled the sheets down, waiting until the twins had settled down before pulling the covers back up and tucking them in. “Are you warm enough?” he checked. “I can get more blankets if you want.”

Virgil exhaled slowly, pulling Patton a little closer. “I'm okay. Plenty warm. Pat?”

“Plenty warm,” Patton echoed. He nestled his head against Virgil’s chest and closed his eyes.

Roman leaned down and kissed each of their foreheads. “I'm going to be out in the kitchen, I've got to tell my boss that I had an emergency so she doesn't fire me for leaving 15 minutes early without an explanation. And there's some other stuff I need to do as well, but if you need me, just shout. Or send Logan to get me.”

Logan was back in the desk chair. He had grabbed a book off Roman’s shelf and was reading it silently, but he looked up and nodded in agreement. “I'll be right here.”

“But Virgil?” Roman looked at him, deadly serious. “Stay here. _Especially_ if Logan and I aren't here.”

“I'm not leaving him,” Virgil stated. “Don't worry about that."

Roman smiled tightly. “I'm going to keep worrying about a lot of things, honey.”

“You're acting like me again.” Virgil grabbed his hand. “It's not a good look on you.”

“Shush,” Roman said fondly, shaking his head. “Okay. Get some sleep, both of you. I'll join you in a while.” He turned the light off as he left, but the glow from the desk lamp that Logan was reading by made the room just comfortably dim. Virgil was glad. He didn't want to be in the dark right then.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, self-harm, nightmares, slight body horror imagery, a dead body (in a dream), panic attacks, anxiety medication, depression, suicidal intent, suicide attempt by a family member, fear of drowning, guilt, hiding depression and self-harm from family, brief mention of contamination/ pathogens, shouting, anxiety, OCD, passing out, thoughts about death.

Virgil woke up several times during the night. The first time was before he had even fully fallen asleep, and a brief jolt of panic where he wasn't sure what had happened brought him back to full consciousness, panting. Logan glanced back at him, concerned.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

Virgil looked down at Patton, fast asleep against his side. “Yeah,” he murmured in response. “I'm fine.” He watched the rise and fall of his twin’s chest for a minute. To reassure himself further, he placed his hand over Patton’s heart. The steady beating made his own heart rate slow, and he closed his eyes again.

The second time, Roman was crawling into bed on Patton’s other side. Virgil woke up when he felt Patton move slightly and heard Roman quickly try to shush him and get him to stay asleep. Patton relaxed after a minute once Roman had laid down and kissed his head, whispering, “It's alright, it's just me, honey. Go back to sleep, Patty. Go back to sleep, you're okay.”

The desk lamp was still on, but Logan was now curled up at the foot of the bed between Patton and Roman’s legs, holding a blanket to his chest. That was often where he slept when they all shared a bed, because the close physical contact sometimes made him uncomfortable and he got too hot under all the covers.

After Roman had looked over and seen that Virgil was awake, he reached across Patton to stroke Virgil’s hair. “You go back to sleep too,” he said softly. “We're all here, we're all safe. Go to sleep.”

Virgil didn't argue.

The third time, it was because Patton was crying--silently, but his body shook slightly with the effort of holding back his sobs. Virgil held him tighter. “Shhh, sleep now,” he breathed. “Don't cry, I've gotcha. I'm here. Sleep now.”

Patton quieted down pretty quickly, and was asleep soon after. Virgil wasn't far behind.

And the fourth time, Virgil woke up with a scream. The river water was icy cold and it seeped into his lungs, dripping from his mouth and he choked, couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_ , and there was a body underneath his hands that he had pulled from the river, covered in bleeding cuts and turning blue, there was no heartbeat, he wasn't breathing, _Patton--_

“Virgil! Virgil, what's wrong? What's wrong, why are you screaming?” Logan asked, his voice high pitched with worry. “Virgil?”

Virgil screamed again, his hands flying up to his head as he grabbed his hair in his fists. The image wouldn't leave his mind, it was so _real_ , what if it _was real and Patton was dead and what was memory what was nightmare and the water is still flooding down my throat and I can't breathe, I'm going to drown, going to die--_

“Virgil,” said another voice, gentle, comforting. “Virgil, sweetheart, breathe. Breathe for me.”

“Can't--"

“I know, I know. Try counting with me--"

“Can't!” Virgil wailed. He had forgotten all the numbers, forgotten how to breathe, forgotten everything except the still, cold body and the lack of a pulse and how his _chest wasn't moving, why wasn't it moving, why didn't he wake up?_

“Shhhh,” Patton said. “Virgil, you _can_ breathe. Listen to me, listen to my voice.”

“What's going on? I heard screaming!” Roman cried, bursting into the room.

His blood was pounding in his head so loudly, like ocean waves against a cliff face, and he could barely hear the others speaking. Someone tried to hug him and he wrenched himself free from the constricting hold. “Can't breathe,” he coughed. “Please-- _please_ , help me, please--"

Someone said something about medication and there was the sound of bare feet hitting the hardwood floor in the hall. A door opened and closed. Virgil was hyper-aware of those noises for some reason, despite barely being able to understand the voices right next to him. He could hear a cabinet opening and slamming shut quickly, could hear a faucet turning on, and it was so loud, so _loud_ , just like the river, and he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of cold, wet, lifeless skin and _wake up, Patton, please, wake up, please--_

“Virgil, it's okay,” someone murmured. “It's okay, we're okay. It was just a bad dream, sweetheart, just a bad dream, take a deep breath.”

“Patton?” Virgil sobbed.

“It's me, I'm right here. I'm right here. I'm here,” cooed Patton. “I'm right here, shhh, no need for tears.”

“But I thought--thought you were…”

“Bad dream,” Patton soothed. “You were having a bad dream.”

But the fear wouldn't leave him. It only gripped harder at his chest and rose up in his throat and he gagged, doubling over, unable to deal with the pain.

“Virgil, do you need your medication?” Roman asked. “Logan brought it, and he's got a glass of water.”

The panic wasn't going to go away on it's own before he passed out this time, so he nodded and held out a shaky hand. A small pill was pressed between his fingers as Logan made sure he could hold onto it and wouldn't just drop it, and then a glass of water was placed into his other hand. Logan kept his hand around the cup as well, steadying it. Trying to swallow through the lump in his throat was difficult, but he managed it, coughing and trying to drag air into his lungs.

“Good job,” Patton told him. “Breathe, Virge. It'll be better soon.” He took Virgil’s hand and placed it on his chest, counting the breathing tool for him. Virgil found it hard to follow, but he focused on Patton’s voice and heartbeat.

_He's alive,_ he told himself when the medication kicked in and allowed him to control his own thoughts again. _He's alive and he’s right here. It was a nightmare._ He felt Roman’s arm encircle him from behind and it wasn't bad this time, he wasn't trapped, and the hug was warm and solid. He didn’t know how long it was before he could breathe almost normally again, but it was such a relief when it happened, and he got so lightheaded from the sudden rush of oxygen, he shuddered and slumped forward.

“Virgil?” Roman asked gently. He held his little brother up so he didn’t collapse completely. “Virgil, can you talk to us?”

Virgil shivered and tried to speak. No words came out. He could open his eyes and see again. Patton’s face hovered close to his own, a worried expression on it.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Back with us?”

“Are you okay?” Virgil asked hoarsely.

“I'm here, and I'm breathing, which is what I think you're asking. You saved me, Virgil, remember?”

Virgil looked over at the window. Morning sunshine was coming in through closed curtains, and he was surprised by how long he must have slept. “I remember,” he said. “I'm sorry for waking you.”

“You didn't wake any of us, Virge,” Roman assured him. “I was in the kitchen making breakfast, Logan’s been awake for hours, and Patton woke up about half an hour ago.”

“Oh.” The anxiety medication had worked to calm him down, but it was also the strong kind that sometimes made him a little loopy. He stumbled over his next words, asking, “Make--making breakfast?”

Roman laughed quietly. “Yeah, you want a waffle?”

“Hmm,” Virgil said, and promptly closed his eyes and snuggled back against Roman’s chest.

“Are you going back to sleep, Virgil? That's fine, just let me know,” said Roman. “I'll keep a waffle warm for you.”

Virgil nodded and reached out blindly. He felt Patton tug him over into his arms and set him down gently onto the pillow. Virgil whined softly as Patton started to move away.

“Virgil…”

“It's okay, you stay here with him. I'll bring you some food, Patty,” Roman said. “Both of you can stay in my bed for as long as you want. But don't get used to eating here, I don't want any crumbs in my blankets.” The fond teasing made Patton giggle, and Virgil smiled sleepily at the sound. The medication was pulling him back to sleep, but he held on until Patton had slid over to embrace him again. His head was on Patton’s chest, and the steady heartbeat soothed him back to sleep with a soft sort of comfort, almost like a lullaby.

Voices cut through his dreams, which were dark and thick and hard to move through, like he was walking in molasses. He was vaguely aware that it was the medication that made him feel that way, so it didn't concern him too much. The voices weren't part of the dreams. He clung to them and dragged himself into wakefulness. Picturing a rope leading up into the sky, he climbed hand over hand until the weird dreams faded and the voices became clearer.

“...n’t _want_ to feel this way, and I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop.”

“You can tell Dr. Picani all this tomorrow.”

“I know, but I have to _try_ and explain--it didn't just go away when he pulled me out, I still have the feelings, and I can't--"

“Patton,” Roman said, his voice quiet and somber. “Patton, we don't expect it to go away overnight.”

“But I'm not supposed to want to do it anymore! I don't...I said I wouldn't hide, and I'm _trying_ , but I don't want to tell him that I still want to...because it would scare him _so bad_ and I saw how he got when he dreamed I had...and it makes me feel horrible, because even that didn't change how I…” Patton was trying to explain, but his words didn't come out completely between fast, ragged breaths.

“Okay, Patton, I need to ask. Are you going to try to hurt yourself again?” Roman said softly.

“I don't think so!” Patton anguished. “But I didn't think I'd actually do _that_ before, either, it was just _thoughts_ other than the...you know. And I'm still having the thoughts, and the wanting to...to _cut_ , and Ro, it hurts. It really, really hurts to try to stop, but--oh, oh, no, no, why are you crying? Please don't cry, Roman, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to make you cry, please…”

“Patton--" Roman’s voice shattered into sobs.

Virgil tried to sit up. His body felt too heavy, but he managed to raise his head enough to see Patton and Roman sitting on the ground next to the bed. Roman had his face in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking. Patton didn't seem to know what to do. He stared at Roman with wide, frightened eyes and had one hand outstretched, not quite touching his brother's arm.

“Ro?” whispered Patton. “Ro, please don't cry. I'm sorry I made you sad, I won't do it again.”

“Don't,” Roman sniffled. “Patton, please, don't say things like that. You can't say you won't make me sad again, honey.”

“I'm hurting you!”

“No, you're _hurting_ .” Roman lowered his hands, wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater, and then cupped his hands around Patton’s face. “And I swear to you, Patton, I won't let you hurt like this any longer. I don't want you to _ever_ feel like you have to pretend to be happy because you're worried about hurting us. Believe me, Patton, it hurts us so much more to know that you didn't come to us in the first place. And don't--" He shook his head as Patton started to say something. “Don't you apologize, I don't want that. Just promise that you will tell us immediately when you feel like you might hurt yourself again.”

“I...I will,” Patton mumbled.

“I don't care if it's in the middle of the night--you wake me up. If I'm at work, you call me, and I will come home. And I will do whatever it takes to help you get through it.”

“Me--me too,” Virgil managed to say. His mouth was dry, his voice a bit rough. “Me too, Patty.”

Patton gasped. “Oh! Oh, Virgil, you're awake!”

Virgil rolled over and slid out of bed, landing on the floor next to Roman. It was a pretty undignified way of getting out of bed, but his limbs weren't moving properly and he didn't really care what he looked like. “Yep. Patton, look. I'd rather be scared about something I know than have something happen because I _don't_ know.”

“You...you heard that, huh?”

“Been awake for a few minutes.” Virgil rubbed his eyes. “Hard to do much after taking that stuff, even though it _works_.”

Roman was still trying to wipe away all of the tears in his eyes before they could fall. “Are you doing better, Virge? You were having a pretty rough time earlier.”

“I'm alright.” Virgil yawned widely.

Patton scooted forward and grabbed his hand. “You had a nightmare, right? That's what made you have a panic attack?”

Virgil nodded reluctantly. “Pretty bad one. But don't worry about me, okay?”

“But it's my fault,” Patton insisted. “It's my fault you had a nightmare, it's my fault that you're scared, my fault that Roman is crying. All...all I wanted was to not hurt anyone, and I'm hurting you, and I hate--"

“Hey, are you talking bad about yourself?” Virgil said, letting a slight note of teasing enter his voice. “Cause if you are, I think I'm obligated to physically fight you.”

Patton’s lip quivered, but it seemed like he was almost smiling, not crying. Maybe it was a little of both. “I'm supposed to be the happy one,” he stated. “I'm supposed to--"

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil interrupted. “‘Supposed to’? What does that mean?”

“I...I always have been? You know. Roman is the creative one, and you're like, the emo one--"

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“--and Logan is the smart one. And I'm the happy one.”

“Hey, Patton? I love you, so much. But that is without a doubt, the _dumbest_ thing I've ever heard,” Virgil informed him.

“But…” Patton’s voice started shaking even worse. “But Mama _said_ , that I was supposed to…”

Roman frowned, but Virgil suddenly remembered a conversation he had overheard. A few months before their mother died, when they had gotten the news that the chemo was no longer effective and that she didn't have very long, Patton had been completely inconsolable.

He refused to go to school, refused to do anything other than cling to her and cry. None of them were doing very well, of course. But nothing like Patton. And one night, Virgil had crept out of his room for a glass of water and saw their mother sitting in the chair with Patton curled up next to her. He was a little too big to really sit on her lap anymore, and she was in so much pain that they couldn't hug her too tightly. Patton was crying, as usual.

“I'm scared, mama,” he whimpered in a voice more vulnerable and young than a 16-year-old should ever have to sound.

“I know, sweetheart. But I'm not scared, okay? I know you're going to be okay when I'm not here any longer.”

“I'm _not_ ,” Patton sobbed. “I'm not gonna be okay.”

“Sure you will. Come here, cuddlebug.” She wrapped her arms around him and brought his head down onto her shoulder. “You're going to be alright. It's going to be hard, I know, for all of you. But Roman is going to be there to take care of you--and I need you to be strong for him, okay? For Virgil, too, and for Logan. You're our heart, baby, our bright sunshine. You always have been. You've got to keep yourself smiling, for me, and for your brothers.”

“I don't think I can. Not without you.” His voice broke and he let out another sob.

“But we need you to be able to smile still, sweetheart. You're our happy Patton. We love you so much, and we need you to stay strong. Okay?”

Patton couldn't speak for a few minutes. When he did, it was decisive. “Okay. I will. I promise.”

“Thank you, baby,” she sighed. “Roman will take care of you, and you'll keep them happy, and Virgil will keep you safe, and Logan will keep you sane. You're gonna be okay.”

Virgil had crept back to his room so his crying wouldn't alert them to the fact that he had been there to overhear their conversation. It wasn't his to hear. He had resolved to forget it.

And he had, up until that moment. As Patton repeated, “Mama said I was supposed to…” it made Virgil break out of the sudden memory and grab Patton by the hands.

“She never meant _this_ ,” he exclaimed. “She didn't want you to _hide_ like this, to _hurt yourself_ because you didn't have another...another outlet for your pain.”

“But I had to, I had to smile, I had to keep you happy--”

“But Patton, Patton, shhh, listen to me,” Virgil said. He held his twin’s hands with one of his own, and tilted his chin up with the other. Patton’s brown, tear-stained eyes reflected the same pain that Virgil felt right back at him. “Patton, we don't need to be happy.”

“What?”

“We don't need to be happy,” Virgil repeated. “It's okay. It's okay. We don't need you to be happy right now. None of us need to be happy. And that's okay, we're _allowed_ to not be happy all the time.”

“But it's _bad_. I just wanted us not to feel bad.”

“Patton, listen to me.” Virgil took a deep breath. “Listen to me. However we're reacting, for however long, is completely normal. Not bad, not strange, not stupid.”

“I just want us to be happy,” Patton whispered, and he buried his face in the crook of his arm.

“Patton…” Virgil had a lump in his throat. It was too painful to talk any more, so he just shook his head and held out his arms.

Patton collapsed into them, already hiccuping from the force of his sobs. His tears soaked right through Virgil’s shirt. “I'm sorry,” he said. “You're r-right. Mama wouldn't w-want this, this is w-worse than just sad, isn't it?”

Roman answered him, knowing that Virgil couldn't. “Yeah, Patty. What you've been feeling is worse than sad. You didn't let yourself be sad, so it turned into something worse.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know,” Virgil whispered, finding his voice. “But you don't have to be. We're gonna make it better.”

“But you're going to feel sad first,” Roman added. He slid over next to Patton and Virgil, wiping away his own tears before putting his arms around both of the twins and holding them tightly. “And you've got to let yourself.”

“And it's gonna _suck_ ,” Virgil said honestly. “Dr. Picani will tell you the same thing tomorrow when you talk to him, I bet. ‘Letting the feelings feel however they're gonna feel is gonna feel pretty scary for a while’. That's what he told me once. I think it might have been in one of his songs, but I'm not sure. I try not to remember those for the most part.”

Patton managed a tiny giggle through his tears. “He has songs?”

“Lots of songs.” Virgil pressed his chin to the top of Patton's head. “You'll love them, even if I don't.”

Patton nodded. He was quiet for a few seconds before dissolving into more tears. “I'm feeling sad right now,” he mumbled.

“I can tell, Patty.” Virgil held him closer. “And that's okay.”

“I just--" He paused for a second to let out a sob. “I _miss her_.”

“Me, too.”

Virgil looked up. He hadn't noticed Logan standing at the doorway.

The 13-year-old came over and kneeled down next to his brothers. His lip was trembling, but he didn't cry. “We all miss her, too, Patton. So come to us when you're feeling sad, because you're never alone with this. Never.”

Patton pulled away from Virgil slightly so his hands were free. He threw his arms around his brother, sobbing. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you, too, Patton,” Logan responded in a small voice. “However, you're crushing me.”

Sniffing, Patton released him. “Sorry, kiddo.”

“It's okay.” Logan leaned against him as Roman adjusted his hold to include the youngest as well. He still didn't cry--he rarely did, and that was perfectly fine--but the other three were all weeping. “We're all going to be okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, discussion of self harm and suicide attempt, mention of nightmares, therapy, depression, guilt, hiding depression and self-harm from family, shouting, anxiety, OCD, passing out, thoughts about death.

“Patty?” Virgil murmured, shaking his twin’s shoulder gently to wake him. “Patty, gotta wake up now, we're going to Dr. Picani’s.”

Patton whined into his pillow. He had been sleeping a lot, and had only woken up that morning for a few hours before deciding to take a nap. But the appointment was at one, and Virgil had received the task of waking him up. It wasn't going well.

“Come on, Patty. I know you're awake.”

“I don't want to,” Patton muttered.

“Because you want to keep sleeping, or because you're scared?” asked Virgil.

Patton hesitated for so long that Virgil almost thought he had fallen asleep again. But then he raised his head, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Both,” he admitted.

“I get that. What are you scared about?” Virgil asked. “I've got a lot of experience with being scared, so I might be able to help.”

“I…” Patton was struggling to find the words. “I'm afraid to talk to him. Which is dumb, because I  _ know  _ him, and he's not scary at all.”

“Yeah, as far as intimidating goes, Dr. Picani doesn't rank much higher than you, Patty,” Virgil teased gently. “But you're allowed to be scared, you know.”

“Even when there's nothing to be scared about?”

“Trust me, I'm an expert in that,” Virgil quipped.

Patton tried to smile. “Can't I just go back to sleep?”

Virgil bounced a little on the bed, making the mattress shake so Patton couldn't lay back down comfortably. Ignoring the resulting whine of protest, he said, “Nope, sorry. No more sleeping. You're going, and it's going to be okay.”

“But…” Patton’s eyes started to get worryingly watery. “I'm...I'm just…”

“You're scared,” Virgil said. He stopped bouncing. “I know.  _ Believe _ me, I know. I was terrified to go see him the first time, too, remember? And you know what you asked me?”

“I don't know.”

“You said, ‘What's the worst that can happen?’” Virgil recounted. “So, Patton, what's the worst that can happen?”

Patton’s lip trembled. “What if he says I have to go stay in a hospital?” he whispered. “I don't want to leave you.”

“Oh…” Virgil breathed as he understood the fear. “Patton…”

“N-no, but, really, what if he does?” Patton said. “He might. They do that when s-someone…Virge, I want to stay here, I can't go stay somewhere else, I need you and Lo and Ro, I c-can't!” He was close to tears.

“Okay, um…” Virgil didn't actually know if he could counter that. There  _ was  _ a possibility that Dr. Picani would suggest hospitalization. “Okay, Patty, come here.” He pulled his twin close, trying to calm him down while his own mind began to race. “Okay. Listen, Patton, that  _ is _ a scary thing to think about, but even if he  _ does _ think that's what would be best for you, it isn't the end of the world. He knows what he's doing, okay? And he'll take our situation into account, you know he will, he knows us, he has for years. He knows how close we are. And if he still thinks that you need more help than we can give you, then...I would trust him on that.”

“But--"

“I know, I know, shhh,” Virgil said, holding him tighter. “Shhh, I know. Everything's going to be okay, I swear.”

Patton was clearly trying to regulate his own breathing, probably counting in his head. “You're coming with me, right?”

“Of course,” Virgil assured him. “Can you try to go in and talk to him by yourself, though? If you need us, we'll be there, but it would be good if you could try first.”

“You'll be right there?”

“Right there, Patty.”

Patton sniffled. “What...what is he going to ask me?” he said timidly.

“Well, after ‘do you how do’, I'm not entirely sure,” Virgil confessed. “This is different than what I talk to him about. But he doesn't ever make you feel like you're trapped or pressured. If you don't want to answer something, you don't have to.”

“And you'll come in if I need you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Virgil squeezed him tightly for a moment. “Ready to get up?”

“O-okay.”

Virgil managed to get Patton to put on sweatpants instead of fleece pajama pants, but settled for the cat hoodie over the shirt he had slept in. Patton seemed exhausted just by that, so he didn't push it. Arm around his shoulders, Virgil led him to the living room where Roman and Logan were waiting.

“Are we ready?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, we're ready. Right, Pat?” Virgil said.

Patton nodded stiffly. “Ready as I'll ever be.” He was breathing a little too quickly, and Virgil rubbed his back as they walked to the car.

“Gonna be okay,” he said softly. “I'm right here. You're gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

“Patton, want to listen to music?” Roman offered. “I've got. Well. Every musical you could want.”

“Okay,” Patton mumbled.

“Any preferences?”

“Whatever's fine.”

“Let's go with Disney,” Roman decided. He put on a playlist with all of the greatest Disney songs (according to him). It started with “Almost There" from  _ The Princess and the Frog _ .

Patton leaned against Virgil and closed his eyes as the drove down the street. Virgil swayed with him in time to the music. At a couple points, Patton hummed softly to the songs when a favorite of his came on. That made Virgil smile.  _ He's gonna be okay _ , he thought.

Dr. Picani was waiting for them in the lobby outside of his office. He had toned down his exuberant mannerisms, and there was no spring in his step when he walked towards them. When he spoke, his gentle voice was similar to the time when Virgil had relapsed with the trich after their mother's diagnosis. “Hello, Sanders boys. Hey, I'm glad you could make it, Patton. Come with me, here, now, it's alright. We're just going to talk for a while. In here with me, that's it.” He led Patton into his office, offering the other three a reassuring smile. Patton let go of Virgil’s hand to follow him.

Roman and Logan sat down while Virgil paced. He wondered if this had been how it felt for the others when he went into the office and they waited outside. It was nerve-wracking. He watched the clock on the wall to time his breathing.  _ In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. _

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Virgil wanted to know what was happening inside the office. Was Patton doing alright? What was Dr. Picani telling him? What conclusions were they coming to? The white noise machine outside the door made it so no sound at all escaped. Virgil had no way of knowing if they were talking, if they were sitting in silence, if Patton was crying.

“Virgil,” Roman said finally. “Virge, sit down. You're making  _ me _ anxious.”

Plucking nervously at the koosh-ball that had permanent residence in his sweatshirt pocket, Virgil sat down. He was bouncing his leg and chewing at the string of his hoodie now that he was no longer pacing to get rid of his nervous energy. Roman sighed, but didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, Dr. Picani opened up the door to his office. He made eye contact with Virgil and tilted his head, gesturing for him to come in.

Hardly able to contain his worry, Virgil stood up and darted into the office. “Patton?”

Patton was sitting on the couch. The heffalump toy was in his lap, and several tear-stained tissues littered the table in front of him. He was shaking, crying into another tissue in his hand. He let the stuffed animal tumble to the ground as Virgil sat down next to him, and he fell into his twin’s open arms.

“Oh, okay, alright,” Virgil whispered. “I'm here now, I've got you.”

Dr. Picani knelt down in front of the couch. He spoke softly. “Virgil, I'm going to leave Patton in your care for a few minutes if that's alright with both of you. Roman and I have to talk about a few things. Everything is alright, try not to worry.”

“I've got him,” Virgil said, and Patton nodded.

“I'll be right back.” Dr. Picani left.

Patton put his arms around Virgil’s neck. He took a few shaky breaths. “Virgil?”

“I'm here, I've got you. You want to talk about what's going on?” Virgil offered.

“Yeah, I d-don't think he's going to s-send me to a hospital,” Patton said into Virgil’s shoulder. “We t-talked about it, a-and--a-and…” He was stumbling. He made a frustrated sound when he couldn't get the words out.

“Take a deep breath, you're okay,” said Virgil quietly. “Don't rush, alright? You've got plenty of time to tell me.”

“O-okay.” Taking another minute to breathe and calm himself down, Patton managed to stop trembling. “We talked about it, and he agrees with me that I need to stay where you and Lo and Ro are. He's talking to Ro about how it's gonna work, and also giving him a recommendation for a doctor who can prescribe me some medicine. He also thinks I should, um, come here more than once a week for a little while. And he wants me to think about taking a medical leave of absence from school, for a month or so.”

Virgil nodded. He was relieved that Patton was going to stay at home, though he didn't say that. “And what do  _ you _ think, Patty?”

“I think...I'm tired,” Patton said frankly. “And that all sounds okay. As long as I stay with you and Logan and Roman.”

“Well, it sounds like you can. That's good, Patton. Did you talk about anything else you want to tell me about?” Virgil asked.

“It was mostly that,” Patton said. “I mean, I told him what I did, and sort of why, but you know all that. I cried a lot.”

“I can tell.” Virgil glanced at the tissues covering the table. “But you're okay?”

“Um...not really?”

“No, I mean, I know you're not  _ okay _ . But is any of this helping? Talking to him?”

“I feel better now that I know I'm staying at home,” Patton said slowly. “I'm not as scared about that. And I think it will help to come talk to him pretty often. But right now I'm just tired.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“I'm pretty sure he figured it out, since I can hardly stop yawning.”

“Ha, probably. But let's see if he has anything to say about that when he comes back in, alright? You've been sleeping a  _ lot _ . And I know that's a symptom of depression, but I'd just like to know if he has any suggestions. Okay?”

“Okay,” Patton agreed. He closed his eyes.

“Stay awake until we get back into the car, Patty.” Virgil tapped Patton's nose lightly.

Patton scrunched up his face. “Ughhhh,” he groaned. “I'm so tired.”

“Yeah, I know.” Virgil picked up the heffalump from the ground and plopped it down into Patton's lap. “You dropped this.”

“I know, you're better to hug.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks.”

Snuggling closer, Patton said, “Virge?”

“Yeah, Patty?"

“I...I don't want to go back to my room yet.”

Virgil frowned. “Okay...I mean, that's fine, but why?” He realized why as soon as he finished speaking, but Patton was already answering him.

“‘Cause that's where I did most of the…the hurting myself. The box is still there, too, unless you or Roman got rid of it,” he said. His hand found Virgil’s and squeezed as he said it, starting to shiver slightly.

“I understand,” Virgil said. “Gotcha, Pat, I've gotcha. We'll figure it out, okay? If Roman wants his bed back, you can stay in my room for a while. That would make me feel better anyway, too. I'm pretty sure my nightmares are gonna keep going.”

“I'm sorry.”

Virgil shushed him. “Don't be, it's okay. I'll be okay, and you'll be okay, yeah? It's alright.”

“I know, but I just…” Patton’s voice trailed off. He was quiet for a moment, letting Virgil hold him while he collected his thoughts. “Wish it was okay  _ now _ .”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” Virgil leaned back with a sigh, shifting Patton closer. “We'll get there. Might take a while. But we'll get there.”

There was a knock at the door and it opened a crack. “Patton, Virgil, is it alright if I come back in?” Dr. Picani asked.

“Uh-huh, that's fine,” Patton answered.

Dr. Picani came in and closed the door again, leaning up against the desk. “Well, I've talked to Roman and I told him what you said was alright for me to tell him, so he knows that I'm not recommending hospitalization. He'd like to come in for a while, with Logan, so we can all talk about strategies to cope with this situation. We want everyone involved to know the best ways to help you, Patton. Is it alright if they join us in here?”

“That's fine,” Patton said in a small voice.

Roman and Logan came into the office after Dr. Picani motioned to them. The youngest sat on the very edge of the couch, while Roman settled down right on the other side of Patton. Dr. Picani sat on his desk, legs dangling over the side, to talk to them. “Well now, I'm very glad to have all four of you together in here. I think that having a discussion in a safe place like this will be helpful to all of you. You all know that Patton is going to stay at home, because he and I have had a long talk and we've decided that's what is best, safest, and most comfortable for him. But for that to happen, everyone here has to know what to do in any situation. So we're going to go over that. If at any point, anyone becomes uncomfortable with the conversation, please speak up. I want to do my best to make this as minimally distressing as I can. Alright?”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. Roman and Logan both nodded.

“Okay,” Patton murmured. “Um...hey, Virgil, don't let go of me, okay?”

“I won't let go of you,” Virgil promised. “Don't worry, I've got you.”

“Everyone feel ready?” the therapist checked. “Alright, good. Obviously, our primary concern has to be everyone's safety. Patton has exhibited self-harming and suicidal behaviors, which is why you came in to see me today. In your circumstances, a severe grief response is entirely expected, but intervention became necessary when you became a danger to yourself. Are we good so far?”

Patton was breathing slowly and deliberately, nestled against Virgil’s side. “I'm okay,” he whispered. “We can keep going.”

“You let us know if that changes, Patton. Now, as it is, Patton, you don't think you're going to try to hurt yourself again, and you think you can tell one of your brothers if you do find yourself with those thoughts. Is that right?”

“I think so,” Patton answered. A note of distress entered his voice as he added, “But like I said, I don't know if I can really trust myself, because I didn't think I'd ever actually go to the river because I...I think I was pretending that it wasn't as bad as it was, and then I  _ did _ , and I don't know if I'm lying to myself again, and--" He broke off, suddenly hyperventilating.

“Whoa, okay, Patty,” Virgil said, startled. “Hey, hey, breathe, you're okay.”

“Focus on your senses, Patton,” Dr. Picani said calmly. “You don't have to be trapped in your thoughts. Break out. What can you feel? What can you hear? Focus your gaze onto something and concentrate on it. You are real, and you are safe here.”

Patton gripped the edge of the couch cushion and stared at a  _ Finding Nemo _ poster in a frame over the desk. He didn't say anything, but his breathing slowed.

Hoping it would be helpful, Virgil rubbed slow circles over his twin’s back. He saw Roman take Patton’s hand and massage his palm. Logan reached over to press on his shoulder reassuringly. All of them seemed to have the same idea, to provide extra sensory input for Patton to focus on.

It seemed to work. Eventually, Patton squeezed Roman’s hand and looked down from the poster. “Okay, I'm okay now,” he mumbled.

“Keep focusing,” Dr. Picani instructed. “Those are excellent grounding techniques, but do be careful with touch especially. It can be overwhelming sometimes. As time goes on, you'll figure out what works for you. Unfortunately, trial and error is often the only way to really understand the best way to deal with this.”

“Dr. Picani, how much should we make sure that Patton isn't ever alone?” Roman piped up. “I just...every time he leaves my sight, I get worried about him.”

“‘m sorry,” Patton said.

“Don't have to apologize,” Virgil reminded him softly. “It's okay.”

“Worry and anxiety are completely understandable responses to this kind of situation,” Dr. Picani said. “If you feel most comfortable keeping Patton close, I would suggest asking  _ him _ how much space he needs.”

“Patton?” Roman asked. “I'm...well, I'm going to rearrange my work schedule so I can be home during the school day until you go back to school, so I don't leave you alone at the house. But if I'm being overbearing, you can tell me.”

“You're going to have to work so late if you try to fit all your hours into the afternoon, Ro!” Patton exclaimed. “You won't be able to get home until…” He started trying to do the math in his head.

“Hey, don't worry about that,” Roman hastened. “I'll be okay, and I can't leave you alone all day.”

“But you're going to change your whole schedule! You shouldn't have to do that.”

“Maybe I  _ shouldn't _ , but I  _ do _ ,” Roman said wearily.

“But--”

“You're not changing my mind,” Roman stated. “Patton, stop fighting me on this."

“You can leave me at home during school, I'll be fine while Virge and Logan are gone,” Patton argued.

“You really haven't proven to me that that's the case!” said Roman emphatically.

Patton flinched, and Dr. Picani cleared his throat. “I'm seeing a bit of a disconnect here, let's talk about this. Roman, you are your brothers’ guardian, responsible for their safety and well-being. Having something like this happen under your care probably feels pretty awful. It seems to me that you have resolved to do whatever it takes to ensure that nothing like it ever happens again. And Patton, you feel bad that Roman is making large changes in his own life to accommodate the circumstances and do what he feels is necessary to do his duty as your guardian. But you don't want to...cause inconvenience. Is that right?” asked Dr. Picani.

“Yes, that's...I…” Roman turned to Patton. “Patty, I just need you to be safe. Do you understand that? I...I can't fail you again.”

“You didn't fail me, Ro!” Patton protested. “That's not--"

“Yes, I did. Yes, I did.” Roman closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I was so caught up in my own world that I didn't see you. It is my fault that it got this bad for you, and I take full responsibility for it.”

“That's not fair!” Patton said, distraught. “You can't put it on yourself, I should have come to you, I shouldn't have hid so much.”

“No matter how well you hid, it was still my responsibility to see it. I'm not just your brother now, Patton, I am your sole caretaker and I am supposed to protect you.” Roman sounded close to tears. “I failed you.”

Patton pulled free from Virgil and threw his arms around Roman. Neither of them spoke. Roman closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of Patton’s head, hands clutching at the back of Patton’s hoodie like he never wanted to let go.

“Roman,” Dr. Picani said quietly after a minute. “Blaming yourself is not helpful. And while you're right that you are their guardian, Patton is right that it isn't fair that you try to carry the world on your shoulders. The past is in the past. Dwelling on what you could have seen, noticed, done...it changes nothing. All it does is traps you in a place where you can't move forward. And moving forward is essential to recovery for all of you.”

“I know,” Roman said, still holding Patton tightly. “It's not easy.”

“No,” Dr. Picani agreed. “It's not. I think, if it's alright with you, we'll leave this topic behind for a while. I have another patient who will be here in half an hour, and I'd really like to get into more techniques that Patton can use to help himself avoid more crises.”

Patton reluctantly sat back, holding onto Roman’s hands. “Okay,” he said.

Dr. Picani explained several tactics that helped when someone was trying to stop self-harming. Virgil was a bit surprised at how similar some of them were to what he used for his trich. Most of them boiled down to distracting oneself until the urge passed or someone else came to help. Many were also about replacing the dangerous behavior with something less harmful or even benign. Patton seemed to take a liking to the suggestion of doing origami. Roman promised to buy him paper, and Logan said that he had a book about it.

When Patton brought up how tired he was, Dr. Picani assured him that it was perfectly normal. “For the most part, it's alright if you're a regular Sleeping Beauty for a while. Your body and your brain are fighting themselves, and that's  _ exhausting _ . It might help clear up the cobwebs to go outside at least once a day, even if it's just sitting in a chair for a few minutes. If you can't do that, open a window. But you three, do encourage him to go outside with you. If you can do some light exercise--nothing strenuous, just a walk around the block or stretching--that can really help as well. I know you haven't been eating as much as you normally do, Patton, and that is also totally expected. But keep in mind that part of your fatigue probably is because of that. Eating well can improve your energy levels significantly. And of course, if you want to sleep, sleep. Don't have caffeinated beverages or force yourself to stay awake just because you think you should be sleeping less. Is that helpful?”

Patton nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “I'll...I'll try to go outside. I don't know if I can do the food yet."

“Take your time, go at a pace that feels right for you, and remember that you have a wonderful support system with your brothers,” Dr. Picani said. “Patton, I have every faith that you will be able to recover. Now, would you be alright if your brothers left and we talked alone again for a minute before you leave?”

“I…” Patton hesitated. “Sorry, can Virgil stay?”

Virgil’s heart ached. He put a hand on Patton's knee.

Dr. Picani offered him a gentle, understanding smile. “Of course, if that's what you want, Patton.”

“We'll be right outside.” Roman kissed the top of Patton's head and led Logan out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Dr. Picani?” Patton said. He was pulling at his sleeves and shifting closer to Virgil, who put an arm around him again. “There's something I want to ask.”

“You can ask me anything you want, Patton,” Dr. Picani told him. “Remember, you're completely safe here.”

Patton nodded. He held onto Virgil's hand with a tight, nervous grip. “The, um...the cuts on my arms, I...I have a h-hard time not picking at them sometimes, and they won't heal p-past a scab,” he mumbled. “And they itch, and I can't stop thinking about them sometimes. How...how do I make that stop?”

Dr. Picani looked at him sympathetically. “That's actually not at all uncommon. There's a lot of ways to help, though. Depending on the area of skin, you can try covering them with bandaids or a light bandage wrapping. Vitamin E oil can stop the itching, and also helps with scarring.”

Virgil could feel Patton tensing up. He ran his fingers through his twin’s hair and made a soft shushing noise. “We can see if we've got any of that at home, and if not, we'll make Ro run out and get some, okay?” he murmured.

“Fidget toys can also be useful for keeping your hands busy and distracted,” Dr. Picani added.

“Lo and I can share with you, we've got plenty,” said Virgil.

“Patton, does that all sound like enough to get you through until Friday when you come back?” Dr. Picani asked.

“I think so.”

“If you need anything else, you're more than welcome to call me any time. I hope that what we discussed today will be helpful for you. Get plenty of rest, and hold onto your brothers. Let them help you, alright?”

“Alright,” Patton whispered.

“Then I will see you on Friday, Patton. Have a safe drive home, my friend.”

As Patton left the office and went over to Roman for a good long hug, Virgil lingered for a minute, glancing over at the therapist, who seemed to understand.

“Virgil, I know I'll see you on Friday as well, but...do you how do?” he asked quietly.

“I just…” Virgil rubbed his eyes. “I've had nightmares.”

“Understandable.”

“And I'll be okay until Friday, I just wanted to tell you.”

“I appreciate you trusting me with that, Virgil. Can I ask how your trich has been over the past couple of days?” Dr. Picani inquired.

“Not bad. I haven't really been pulling at all recently.”

Dr. Picani nodded. “That's a good thing, Virgil. That means it isn't your default pathway when you're under stress anymore.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Um...will the nightmares go away?”

“I can't tell you that. We can work on it when I see you on Friday, though, and come up with some ways to help. Virgil--and you don't have to answer this, or talk about it if you're not ready--did I understand correctly that you were the one who realized that Patton was in crisis, and found him at the river?” asked Dr. Picani softly.

Virgil felt his lip tremble as he nodded. “I pulled him out of the water,” he said. “In...in the nightmares, I'm too late.”

“Ahh.” Dr. Picani’s face showed a sympathetic understanding. “Virgil, that is a very traumatic thing to experience. I'm glad that you told me. We can definitely start working on ways to cope with it on Friday, but if it gets so bad that you find you can't sleep at all for fear of the dreams, call, and we'll see if we can meet before then as well.”

“I think I'll be okay until then, ‘cause Patton’s gonna stay in my room for a while and it's usually fine when I remember that he's okay. But I will.” Virgil gave him a small smile and added, “See you on Friday, Dr. Picani.”

“I'll see you on Friday, Virgil, take care of yourself.” Dr. Picani held the door for him as he left.

Once they were home, Patton headed immediately to Virgil’s room and crawled into the bed. Virgil kind of shrugged at Roman and said, “Guess we're gonna wait to talk until he's had a nap. I'll stay with him, you probably need to call work and figure out your schedule.”

“I'm sure he's entirely exhausted. You always are after sessions.”

“Yeah. Oh, and I think I'm going to talk to the school counselors and see if I can drop sixth period ceramics, ‘cause I hate the class anyway and I don't need it to graduate, and I can ask Remy to give me a ride home with him at the start of lunch. That way you can start work a couple hours earlier than you would otherwise, so you don't have to stay out so late.”

Roman looked at him skeptically. “You're going to drop a class?”

“Ceramics!” Virgil defended. “I didn't even want to take it in the first place but Patton has a sixth period so I took it so we all got off school at the same time. And it looked like the easiest option.”

“Fine,” Roman said. “We'll talk. Go take a nap with Patton, I know you're tired.”

“Not gonna argue with that.” Virgil stepped into his room and went over to the bed. “Patton?”

“‘m so tired, Virge,” Patton breathed.

“I know, I know. You can go to sleep, I'll be right here.” Virgil took off his jeans, put on sweatpants, and slid into bed. Patton settled into his arms. “When you wake up, we'll talk to Ro about the bandages thing,” Virgil told him.

“Okay.”

“Also, I might have more nightmares,” added Virgil.

“I figured. I'll be here to help.” Patton’s eyes were closing. “Cuddles and sleep now, talk later? Sorry.”

“Don't apologize, I'm completely down with that.” Virgil smoothed down his hair, pulling him closer and shifting until he was more sure his arm wasn't going to fall asleep. He hummed softly, and Patton was almost instantly asleep. As tired as Virgil was, he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He found himself dreading having more nightmares even with Patton snuggled next to him.  _ He's fine,  _ he told himself sternly, hoping it would transfer into whatever dreams he might have.  _ Patton is fine. He's right here. You can hear him breathing. He's warm and dry and alive. _

Patton must have sensed somehow, even in his sleep, that Virgil wasn't doing too well. After about half an hour, he sniffed and opened his eyes. “Virgil?” he breathed. “Virge, you okay?”

“I'll be okay,” Virgil promised. “Shh, go back to sleep, shhh.”

“No, what's wrong? Something is wrong,” Patton insisted. “I can tell when something is wrong.” He propped himself up on his elbow.

“Patton, I'm fine, go back to sleep. You're still exhausted.” Virgil patted the pillow.

“So are you,” Patton said. “You've had bad dreams both of the last two nights. Is that why you aren't sleeping now?”

“I'm fine, Patton, I'll sleep tonight.”

“Okay, but something is wrong.”

“I'll be okay, Pat.”

“Are you sure?”

Virgil sighed. “Dr. Picani and I are gonna talk about the nightmares on Friday. I'll be okay.”

“Do you think they'll go away?”

“I don't  _ know _ , Patton!” Virgil snapped.

Patton stared at him, lip quivering.

“No--I’m sorry, I didn't mean to snap,” Virgil said quickly. “I just, I don't know, okay? I'm just as confused and scared as you are, Patty.”

“I know, so let me  _ help _ you,” Patton pleaded.

“I don't know if you can.”

Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist and tugged him close.

“Patty,” Virgil mumbled. “Cuddles don't fix everything.”

“No, but they help.”

Virgil closed his eyes and let Patton hug him. “Patton?”

“Hm?”

“I...I really hope you know, we...we wouldn't have.”

“Huh? Wouldn't have what, Virge?”

“When...when I said, did you think we'd be okay in a month if you died, and you said you hoped so? We wouldn't. We'd never be okay.” Virgil’s voice got a bit shaky as he suddenly had to hold back tears. “I just need you to know that.”

“Oh my god, Virgil, I...I know,” Patton said.

“And I don't even remember what else I said, but I know I was horrible, and I yelled at you, and I'm  _ so sorry _ for being angry with you, and not seeing,” Virgil rambled. “Because I was, I was angry at you for being okay, and that was just awful of me, and I'm just...I'm so sorry.”

“Shhh, shhh,” Patton whispered. He buried his fingers in Virgil's hair and pulled his head over to cradle against his shoulder. “I know, it's okay.”

“It's not okay, I was so angry, I had no right to be.”

“It's okay,” repeated Patton. “I understand, I forgive you, whatever you're beating yourself up for, I forgive you.”

Virgil breathed deeply, not wanting to break down. “Losing you is the most terrifying thing I can imagine.”

“Oh, Virgil…”

“The nightmares are bad, but they're nothing compared to what it would actually be. I just need you to know that.”

“I'm so sorry I'm putting you through this, I'm so sorry,” Patton said.

“I'm sorry I didn't make it clear before how much we love you, and need you.”

“Okay, can we…” Patton’s voice was thick with emotion. “Can we both agree to stop apologizing?”

Virgil tried to laugh. “Can't promise anything.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Patton sighed. “We'll be okay, though, right?”

“I think so. Eventually. Now will you go back to sleep? I'm not gonna, but I'll stay here with you,” Virgil said.

“Sure you'll be okay?”

“Yeah, Patty. I'll be okay.” Virgil felt Patton take a deep breath and relax. He sniffed a few times and wriggled into a more comfortable position, and then was still. Feeling the last of the tension leave his twin’s body, Virgil knew that he had fallen asleep.

As he lay there awake, Virgil found himself wondering what their mother would have said if she knew what was happening. If she knew what Patton had tried to do. She would be devastated to know that Patton had misinterpreted her wish for her children to be happy in such a way that he would ever feel the need to hurt himself to achieve it. She would hold Patton close and never let go.

Virgil missed her. So, so much. He could almost feel her arms around him if he tried to remember, could hear her voice in his head. How could someone just be gone when their voice lived on inside someone else? How could he remember something so clearly that it nearly felt like it was  _ happening _ , but it would never happen again? The memories would fade eventually, he knew that. He would try to hold on, but someday, the memory of his mother's hug and of her laughter would be diminished to the point where it was gone forever.

He still had all of her text messages on his phone. Even almost two months later, he hadn't been able to delete them. They didn't even really say anything. Most were just exchanges of  _ I'll be there in 10 _ and  _ Class is running late  _ and  _ Ok see you soon _ . They didn't  _ mean _ anything.

_ But what do you  _ do _ with the texts from someone who died?  _ Virgil thought.  _ Do you change their contact name to include R.I.P. or something dumb like that? Or do you just delete it? Because they're gone. You can't text them anymore. There's no point in keeping their number in your phone. Even if you do pull the conversation up every few days and start typing a message, just to backspace it all again when you can't even see the letters anymore because you're crying so fucking hard. What the hell do you think that's going to accomplish? Even if you hit send, it's not like there's cell service in the afterlife. _

He tried to push away the wandering thoughts. It made everything worse to dwell on it. Dr. Picani would tell him not to repress his feelings, but there came a point when enough had to be enough.

_ She's gone, _ he told himself firmly.  _ She's gone, and you've accepted it. You can't live in the past, even if it feels like there isn't anywhere for the future to go. You need to take care of Patton. _

Keeping that thought forefront in his mind, Virgil began to count silently in his head. All the way to 100 and all the way back down, over and over, passing the time and keeping himself calm and grounded until Patton would wake up from his nap and pull him back to the present.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, panic attack, fear of contamination, vomiting, hypochondria, nightmares, depression, anxiety, OCD, a little bit of swearing, thoughts about death.

On Thursday, Patton had somehow found enough energy to ask Roman to bring him to the park to take a walk. Logan had gone to the library. Virgil had decided to stay at home, because with everything that had been going on, he had been seriously neglecting his schoolwork. And for the first time that week, he hadn't had a nightmare, so he was actually able to focus.

Sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, Virgil was reading his AP biology textbook. The class had been assigned three chapters to read over the break. That seemed a bit excessive to Virgil, but he was doing it anyway. This particular chapter was about parasitic microorganisms. It was dull. Virgil couldn't stop his eyes from drifting closed. He flopped over onto his side.  _ Maybe just a short nap, _ he thought.

_ The river water surrounded him. Icy cold and suffocating, it forced its way down his throat. He could see the bacteria swimming in the water, into his nose and mouth. He tried to spit it out, retching and coughing,  _ get it out get it out get it out _ , he couldn't breathe, the river was full of dirt and parasites and bacteria and he couldn't get rid of it, he was going to be infected, he was going to die he was going to die-- _

Virgil woke up gagging. He could still feel the water in his mouth and throat. Nauseous and unable to breathe, he scrambled to his feet and staggered to the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet to gag again. His stomach hurt from the sheer effort of trying not to throw up.

_ Nothing is wrong, it's all in your head, you aren't sick. _

He reached up and grabbed his water glass from the counter, hauling himself to his feet so he could reach the faucet and fill the cup. Taking a mouthful, he swished it around his mouth and spat it into the sink, trying to rid himself of the horrible taste of the river in his dream.

_ The tainted, filthy, contaminated river full of pathogens and dirt and runoff chemicals, and it's all inside you now, you’ll never get rid of it, it’s with you forever-- _

Virgil’s hands were shaking so much that he dropped the cup before he could take another sip. It splashed all over him, jolting him further into the thoughts of the river. He could feel it in the back of his throat and he gagged once again. He managed to lean over the toilet before he threw up, the bile burning his throat and tongue. That only made everything worse, the spiraling feeling of contamination making him cough and heave even more. There was nothing left in his stomach to vomit up. The muscles in his abdomen cramped up painfully. He couldn’t breathe at all.

_ Phone, pocket, text them. _ He pulled the more helpful thoughts out of the darkness and grabbed his phone from his pocket. It took him four tries to get the password right, and his fingers kept shaking as he typed into the group chat with all four brothers.

_ Habign an attckc --V _

_ Plsea come home --V _

_ Hepl me --V _

The first replies came only seconds later.

_ 478, we’re on our way --R _

_ Where are you? --L _

Virgil could barely keep typing.

_ In the bthrom, thikn i’m sick? Don’t kno wht to do --V _

_ I’m already on my way home from the library, Virgil, I’ll be there in less than five minutes. --L _

_ Breathe, breathe, we’re coming --P _

_ We’re coming, it’s going to be okay --P _

_ Whatever is happening, we’ll take care of you, you’ll be alright --P _

_ I love you, Virgil --P _

Virgil let the phone fall. His head was getting light.  _ Can’t pass out after throwing up, not safe. _ He knew that, but his vision was swimming with black dots and he still couldn’t breathe. His throat still burned. He could practically  _ see _ the damage to the tissue that had to be happening from the stomach acid, which would just leave everything wide open for the bacteria to infect him.  _ Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe _

_ In for four seconds. _ He managed two.  _ Hold for seven. _ It was more like ten before he could exhale at all, and then only for three seconds. He kept trying, though, knowing that it was better than nothing.

The front door opened and footsteps rushed down the hall. “Virgil!” Logan cried. “Virgil, I’m home!”

Virgil tried to call back to him, but couldn’t. A couple seconds later, his little brother was standing over him. “Lo--” he choked out.

“You’re going to be alright, keep breathing.” Logan grabbed a washcloth from the drawer and soaked it in warm water. He knelt down to press it against Virgil’s cheek and then wiped his mouth off gently. Taking a clean water glass from the stack at the edge of the counter, he filled it about halfway. “Just rinse your mouth out with a tiny sip, don’t try to swallow it,” he instructed.

Virgil took the cup with shaky hands and poured a little into his mouth before spitting it into the toilet, which Logan then flushed. The younger boy opened another drawer and pulled out a handtowel to dry the spill on the floor, and a bath towel, which he wrapped tightly around Virgil’s shoulders.

“Keep this around you,” he said. Then, he rushed over to the bathtub and started to run the water, turning it up so hot that the bathroom began to fill with warm steam.

Holding onto the towel, Virgil took a shuddery breath. The burst of oxygen made his lungs stop aching quite as much, though exhaling was still next to impossible. He slumped backwards against the blue bathroom wall and watched the mirror begin to fog up, listening to the sound of the running shower. Logan knelt down next to him with another damp washcloth and placed it on his forehead.

“Thank you, Lo,” Virgil said hoarsely.

“What are you scared of?” Logan asked him. The question really meant,  _ what are you panicking over this time? Tell me so I can show you why it’s irrational. _

“River--” Virgil coughed, his throat stinging. “River water, infection,” he managed finally. “Don’t know why  _ now _ , it was five days ago.”

“You’ve been too busy worrying about Patton,” Logan told him reasonably. “You’re finally processing the rest of what happened. I don’t believe that you’re actually ill.”

“I could be!”

Logan put his palm against Virgil’s cheek. “You don’t have a fever.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil pleaded. He certainly felt chilled and shaky.

“I’m nearly positive, but we can take your temperature in a little while. The reading wouldn’t be very accurate after you’ve thrown up and had water. I would suggest waiting at least twenty minutes.” Logan put the damp washcloth aside and took Virgil’s hand.

“But what if I am sick? What if I’m dying?”

“You’re  _ not _ ,” Logan said firmly. “Even if you did catch some sort of stomach flu, that’s all it is. And if you are sick, then we will take you to the doctor, and you’ll get treatment, and you’ll be fine. There is a less than negligible chance that you are dying, Virgil.”

“But--”

“Less than negligible,” Logan repeated. “Virgil, trust me. Let go.”

_ Trust him, he wouldn’t lie to you, let go of the fear. Let go. Let  _ go. “Okay,” Virgil said in a small voice. “Okay, I’ll try.” His stomach cramped up again and he whimpered, doubling over.

“Virgil? Virgil, what’s wrong?” Logan asked.

“Hurts,” Virgil gasped.

Suddenly, the front door opened again and Virgl could hear Patton and Roman running inside. “Virgil!” Patton exclaimed as he came into the bathroom. “We’re here, we’re here, are you okay?”

“His panic attack is over, mostly,” said Logan. “He threw up, and I think his stomach is still hurting. But he should be alright.”

“Why is the shower running?” Roman wondered.

“The sound is calming, and the steam helps with breathing. We can probably turn it off now. I would have already, but…” Logan glanced at Virgil, who was still hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach. The ache of the sore muscles made him let out another soft whimper.

“Virgil, are you going to throw up again?” Roman asked gently.

Shaking his head, Virgil whispered, “No, there’s nothing left anyway. Just hurts.”

“Can we get you to your room, then?” Roman leaned down to take Virgil’s hands. After Virgil nodded, Roman helped him to his feet carefully. “That’s it. Walk slowly now, that’s it. You’re okay. We’ve gotcha.”

As soon as Virgil had collapsed onto his bed, Patton hopped up next to him. “What happened, Virgil?” he asked quietly.

“I don't know, I was just reading and then I was tired and I closed my eyes for a minute and then I just felt so sick,” Virgil recounted. “I couldn't stop thinking about the river, and the water, and everything in it and how it got into my mouth and I probably swallowed some of it, and…”

“Shhh,” Patton said, cutting him off before he could wind himself up further. “Shhh, okay, I understand now.”

“Virgil? You were reading your biology textbook?” Logan asked, a strange tone in his voice.

“Yeah, we have to read three chapters before next Tuesday, why?”

“Well, it's no wonder you started obsessing about bacteria, you were reading about parasites before you fell asleep. That must have been the trigger.” Logan had picked up the textbook and was closing it. He put it down on Virgil’s desk. “That's all it was, Virgil. Just an intrusive thought spiral. You're not sick.”

_ Oh. _ As Virgil thought about it, he realized that Logan was probably right. But that didn't change the fact that his throat hurt and his stomach hurt and he just generally  _ hurt _ . Laying on his back, he tried to take a few deep breaths. That certainly didn't help the stomach ache, but he was starting to feel significantly calmer. Patton was rubbing his tummy gently, and his abdominal muscles started to relax. “Sorry I made you all come home,” he murmured.

“You were scared, and not feeling well. It's perfectly fine,” Roman assured him.

“I was just about so tired that we were going to head back anyway,” added Patton.

Logan nodded. “And I was already walking back from the library. Absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

“Everything's fine, Virgil,” Patton said. He continued to trace circles over Virgil’s belly with his palm. “Don't worry. You're okay.”

“Oh--and we were going to have a little Thanksgiving!” Virgil remembered. “Today is Thursday! I don't think I'll be able to eat anything.”

“And that means I don't have to worry about making it,” Roman said quickly. “Which means we can just order pizza, and I'm pretty sure we'll all be happier with that than with my cooking, anyway.”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Maybe so,” he teased. He managed to giggle a little as Roman poked his side before the laughing hurt and he had to lay quietly again. “Thank you,” he breathed, “for coming home.”

“Always!” Patton promised. He brushed Virgil’s hair back away from his eyes.

“I think we have some Sprite in the cupboards somewhere. In a little while, do you think you'd be able to drink some? Don't want you getting dehydrated,” said Roman.

“Probably,” Virgil said, but his stomach tensed again at the thought of trying to drink anything more than water and he winced.

“Not quite yet, we’ll give it at least half an hour,” added Roman.

“And we'll check your temperature first, just to make sure,” Logan said.

Virgil smiled gratefully at him. “I have to finish reading,” he said suddenly.

“Uh-uh,” Patton scolded. “No, you have to rest, your homework can wait.” He put his hand on Virgil’s forehead. “And it doesn't feel like you have a fever. You're a little cold, if anything. Do you feel cold?”

“A little,” Virgil admitted. The water he had spilled on himself made his shirt uncomfortably damp, and he shivered. Suddenly, he felt like he was back at the edge of the river, soaking wet and freezing cold, clutching a sobbing Patton, and  _ so scared-- _

“Virgil! Virgil, hey, you're okay, you're okay!”

Panting, Virgil could feel himself being pulled so he was sitting up. “Sorry,” he groaned. “Sorry, I'm okay.”

Patton hugged him tightly. “That's right, you're okay. But you don't need to be sorry, Virge, it's alright, shhh. What just happened? Why did you get scared again?”

He shook his head. “Doesn't matter,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

“Okay, I won't press.” Patton squeezed his hand.

“I'll go get the thermometer,” stated Logan.

“And I'll see if I can find the Sprite,” Roman said. Both of their tones were clear.  _ Patton can take care of this part. _

As they left, Patton made Virgil pull the damp shirt off. “Hey, the scrape on your side is almost healed,” he said encouragingly.

“Still hurts a bit,” Virgil muttered. “But it's okay.”

“And we've cleaned it every day, so there's no infection. You're perfectly fine.” Patton handed him a dry shirt.

Virgil put it on. “I know. I was just being stupid.”

“Nope, not stupid,” Patton said lightly. “No stupid here.” He sat down next to Virgil again. “How are you doing?”

“Ughhh,” Virgil moaned in reply.

“You know what?” Patton leaned his head against Virgil's shoulder and sighed, “Same.”

Virgil closed his eyes and nodded slowly. He took Patton’s hand. “Shall we sit here in misery together?” he said, half-heartedly mimicking the line from  _ Lion King 1 ½,  _ ‘shall we run for our lives?’

“Oh, yes, let's,” responded Patton with a note of wry humor.

Virgil allowed himself a sad smile. “We can't be too fucked up if we're still making Disney references, right?”

“I don't think that's how it works,” Patton said in a sing-song voice. “And also, don't swear.”

Unable to help it, Virgil burst out laughing. “S-sorry,” he snorted. “That's just so  _ you _ .”

After a second, Patton joined him in helpless laughter. They collapsed on top of each other on the bed, laughing until Virgil’s stomach hurt too much and he just lay there with tears pouring down his face. Patton’s giggles died down as he pressed his cheek against his twin’s. Their tears mingled together as their brothers came back in to see what the noise was about. At the sight of the twins tangled together, both exhausted and half asleep, Roman and Logan exchanged a glance.

_ Let them sleep, _ Logan mouthed.

Roman nodded. He pulled the covers over the twins, murmuring, “We'll be back to check on you in a little while. Get some rest.” Then he put his arm around Logan and together they went back out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, talk of self-harm and panic attacks, mention of a suicide attempt of a family member, overworking, stress, neglect of self-care, keeping secrets, coping mechanisms, insecurities.

Roman couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep.

It had to have been before their mother's death. Between making phone calls, doing paperwork, and comforting his little brothers, the week between the death and the funeral held no sleep at all for him. And the night after the funeral, he had slept for a few hours in Logan's bed but had then gotten up to check on Patton, who had fallen asleep on the floor. He had picked him up and put him in bed, noticing the tear tracks on the poor kid's face.

And after that, if he wasn't working or driving the kids around or studying for tests, he was writing. The novel flowed from his mind to his hands, through his pen and onto the pages of his many fancy notebooks faster than he had ever written before. He poured his heart and soul into this book, venting his grief and frustrations and fears onto the Prince of a faraway kingdom whose mother, the Queen, died and left him in charge of a kingdom that he wasn't prepared to rule. That he had never  _ wanted  _ to rule. The Prince had to navigate politics and trade and laws, as well as his own grief and that of his siblings. There were sicknesses in the kingdom and dragons attacking, and the Prince didn't know what to do.

Roman didn't, either. All he could do was stay afloat for another day, another week, month, and soon it would get easier. Right? It  _ had _ to. He couldn't continue like this much longer. 

He spent every night hunched over his notebook until he was close to passing out from exhaustion, and then he would hide the notebook in the secret drawer in his desk. That way, nobody would find it. When each notebook was filled, he would type it out and add it to the document he kept on his computer. It was getting close to 50,000 words. Not the longest thing he had written, but it was going to be eventually. He had plans.

Of course, he never planned on publishing it. There was no way he could do that, even though he knew it was the best thing he had ever created. If he published it, his brothers would see it. They would read it, and they would realize how Roman did things so  _ wrong _ . He was making light of the situation, making it into a fantasy. They would know that he couldn't handle it if it was real all the time, and they would hate him. He knew they would.

But without being able to continue with theater right now, he  _ did _ need something, some fantasy world to lose himself inside of. If he didn't, he would go absolutely crazy. He knew that too well. And he had to keep himself sane however he could. His brothers  _ needed _ him.

He had just barely begun to think that maybe it was starting to get easier, that the reprieve he so desperately needed was upon him. The routine was becoming less impossible to follow. His frantic writing slowed down just slightly, and he started to get about 5 or 6 hours of sleep every night. And then Patton had done  _ that _ .

Trying to drown oneself belonged in Shakespeare plays and the biographies of old poets, not in Roman’s goddamned  _ family _ .

The couple of minutes between when he had received the call from Virgil and when he had been told that Patton was alive were the worst minutes of his life. And that included being at the hospital to hear the heart monitor flatline and having to go back out of the room to where Patton and Logan were waiting, terrified, catching Patton as he fell to the ground screaming before Roman had even said anything. The look on his face must have been enough. And calling Virgil, having to tell him what had happened…

Roman had made the decision to tell him immediately.  _ It wasn't fair, _ he thought,  _ to tell him to come to the hospital and not tell him why. He would know, but he wouldn't  _ know _.  _ And the fact that Virgil had immediately begun to demand to know  _ what happened, Roman, tell me, just tell me _ made Roman know he had made the right choice. Even if it had wrenched his heart right out of his chest to hear Virgil sobbing over the phone in a public place with nobody to help him.

But thinking that Patton might have killed himself was worse.  _ So much worse. _

After it had become clear that Patton wasn't going to die, and the appointment had been made with Dr. Picani, Roman had left Virgil and Patton curled up in his bed with Logan watching over them. He had collapsed onto the couch, buried his face in a pillow, and screamed. When he had screamed himself hoarse, not letting a single sound escape from the cushion he used to muffle his voice, he had burst into tears.  _ I almost lost him, _ he thought, and he couldn't stop crying.  _ I failed you, Mom. And I failed Patton. _

He needed his notebook. He needed to write, to do  _ something _ to relieve the pain and pressure inside of him.  _ Is this what Patton felt when he cut? But he didn't have a story to write to make it go away, so he had to cut himself to let it out. _ He needed his notebook.

“Roman?”

Roman flinched and tossed the pillow away, wiping his eyes quickly. “What's wrong, Lo, are they okay? What's--" He broke off.

Logan was holding out the leather bound notebook that Roman was  _ sure _ had been put away safely in his drawer. “Nothing is wrong. They're both sound asleep, I made sure. I thought you might need this.”

“Where did you even...how…” Roman stood up and snatched his book away from his little brother, looking at him suspiciously. “You didn't read it, did you?”

“Of course not. But I'd like to.” Logan was unphased by Roman’s glare. “I know you've been writing again, ever since she died. I know how you get when you’re working on a project, and all the signs were there. Is it a novel or a play, or just poetry?”

“...novel,” Roman muttered. “How did you even know where to find this?”

“Roman, I helped you put that desk together. It's not a secret drawer if you already know it's there,” Logan informed him. “So, can I read it?”

“It's not finished yet.”  _ Why didn't I just say no? _ Roman wondered despondently.

“I know. I'm a very good editor.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Oh, is that it? You just want more of an excuse to criticize my grammar?”

“I don't need an excuse. But no, I just want to read it. I'm curious about what you're writing, what it is that could help you at a time like this.”

“What?”

“Well,” Logan said, “you write when you are upset. You turn the pain of reality into artwork. That's fascinating. And I like your writing. I think it's clever.”

_ High praise from the clever one. _ “Thank you, I suppose.”

“Can I read it?” Logan pressed.

“It's not something I'm sure I want to share,” Roman said.

“I won't tell Virgil or Patton anything, I promise.”

“I don't know if I'm comfortable sharing it with  _ you _ , either,” Roman clarified.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Roman searched for an answer that Logan would accept. “Just because.”  _ Well, that's not gonna go over well. _

“Hm. Try again,” Logan said.

_ He sounds like Mom,  _ Roman realized, and almost snorted. “You won’t like reading it.”

“Why not?” Logan asked again.

Roman groaned. “Because it’s stupid, Logan. It’s a dumb book and I haven’t edited it at all and it’s...it’s just been the only thing keeping me sane, so quality isn’t really what I’m going for. You understand?”

“Like I said, I’m a great editor.”

_ Maybe...no. No. _ “No, Logan. I’m sorry, I’m not ready to share it yet. Or ever, probably. Thanks for bringing me the notebook, now go back to my room. I don’t want them left alone,” Roman said. “And I have to call my boss.”

“Fine,” Logan said resignedly. He handed Roman a pen. “Tell me if you change your mind.” He turned and went back down the hallway to the bedroom where Virgil and Patton slept.

Roman looked down at the notebook and pen in his hands. He was itching to spill more words out onto the paper, but he really did have to call his boss. So he did, and he explained to her that there had been an emergency at home and he might have to rearrange his schedule. To his relief, she had been very understanding.

After he had hung up, he opened the notebook and turned to the page where the ribbon bookmark lay. The left-hand page was covered with his neat, scrawling handwriting that switched seamlessly between print and cursive every few sentences depending on how fast he had been writing. And the right-hand page was blank. The grey lines invited him to un-cap the pen and to press the tip to the page. He began to write.

On Monday night, when Patton had moved to Virgil’s room, Roman found himself alternating between sitting at his desk writing feverishly and, about once an hour, rushing to where the twins slept to check on them. Each time, he feared that Patton would be gone. But he always found both of them in the same spot, fast asleep with Virgil’s arms tucked protectively around his twin. Although he knew he was being paranoid, Roman would put his hand on Patton’s chest carefully to make sure he was still breathing.

He would go check on Logan afterwards. The youngest had fallen asleep with a textbook on his pillow and his head resting next to it. He held it like it was a stuffed animal, and Roman covered his mouth, snickering quietly. The kid was such a nerd. Roman loved him so much.

And then he would go back to his room and write for another hour, then spring to his feet and head back down the hallway to Virgil’s room. This continued until almost 4 a.m. when he finally sank down onto his bed and turned his light off.

He did the same thing every night that week. On Thursday night, after they had a small and pretty pathetic Thanksgiving meal of pizza and Sprite (only the Sprite for Virgil, who was still worried that his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle much more), Roman filled the notebook. He opened up his laptop and began to type. He changed a few words here and there but mostly, it was exactly what he had written in the notebooks. The hours ticked by and he checked on the twins a few times. They seemed fine, and Virgil hadn’t gotten sick again.

It was after 3 a.m. when there was a tiny knock at his door. Roman leapt from his chair and opened it, worried that it would be Virgil feeling ill again. But it was just Logan. “What’s up, Lo?” Roman whispered, not wanting to wake the twins across the hall.

“Can I come sit in here?” Logan asked.

“Of course.” Roman let him come into the room and watched him sit down on the bed. “Why are you awake?” he asked, closing the door quietly.

“Why are  _ you _ awake?” Logan shot back.

“Fair enough.” Roman sat down in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been writing.”

“Every night until about 3:45, I know.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know that?” he asked.

Logan sighed. “‘Cause 3:30 is the last time you come and check on me. You can stop doing that, by the way, I’m not going anywhere.”

Roman sputtered, “Wh--you--I didn’t mean to wake you up!”

“Oh, I’m almost never asleep when you come in.”

“You, uh, do a pretty great job at pretending,” Roman stated, taken aback.

Nodding, Logan said, “I know. I turn my lights off when I hear you go into Virgil’s room and regulate my breathing.”

“... _ Why? _ ” Roman demanded. “Why would you pretend to be asleep? And why  _ aren’t _ you asleep, for that matter?”

“I pretended because I didn’t want to worry you, and I’m not asleep because I’d rather be reading. Is that sufficient explanation?” Logan asked.

“Uh-uh, specs, you don’t get to do that. You're thirteen, you need sleep!” scolded Roman.

“And you’re only twenty-one,” Logan countered. “You still effectively need as much sleep as a teenager because your brain still hasn’t fully developed its frontal lobe yet.” He crossed his arms, his face saying  _ I could do this all night. _

Frustrated, Roman threw one of his hands up into the air. “Fine! Both of us should be asleep. And we aren’t. So where does that leave us?”

Logan glanced around. “...In your room?”

“Not what I--oh, dear.” Roman frowned suddenly. “Wait, why  _ are _ you in my room? You wanted to come sit in here, is everything alright?”

“Um…”

The hesitation was enough. Roman left his chair and sat down on the bed next to his little brother. “What’s up?” he asked gently.

Logan sighed, and it was too old of a sound to be coming from a teenager who wasn’t quite 14 yet. “I have to tell you something.”

Heart beating faster, Roman was imagining all of the possible things Logan would need to tell him. “Okay,” he said. “Hit me with it, Lo.”

“I haven’t just been at the library.”

_ WHAT-- _

“What?” Roman said calmly.

“When I said I was going to the library, I wasn’t always at the library,” Logan restated.

“Then...where have you been?” asked Roman.

Logan took a deep breath. “I’ve been taking classes at the community college.”

“Oh,” Roman said.  _ He’s been doing what now????? AND HE LIED TO ME ABOUT WHERE HE WAS, THAT IS SO NOT SAFE-- _ “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you.”

“Okay, how long has this been going on? And how did you  _ get _ there?” Roman demanded. “What classes are you taking? How are you  _ paying _ for them? And how the hell do you have time to do all the work for college classes as well as high school classes? You’re already a freshman with three honors and one AP class, don’t you understand how much of a workload that is?”

“Slow down,” Logan pleaded. “Okay--I’ve been taking classes since August. I take the bus from the library to the college. And Mom paid for them.”

“She…” Roman couldn’t breathe for a second. “Mom knew?” he choked out.

“She encouraged me to take them,” Logan mumbled. “I’m taking astronomy and organic chemistry. She saw the course listings online and suggested them when I told her that the high school classes were boring.”

“So she…” Roman was having a hard time speaking through the sudden lump in his throat. His eyes were misting over. “She wanted you to do this?”

“Uh-huh,” Logan said, nodding. “And I was...I was going to drop out, after she died, because I thought...I thought I might not be able to handle it.” That was clearly difficult for him to admit.

“But you didn’t,” Roman murmured.

“No, I didn’t. Actually, it’s been…” Logan hesitated. “It’s  _ helped _ . I’m working towards something, and I don’t have time to just stay sad. I think it’s been good for me.”

“Okay, well…I’m so glad that you know yourself well enough to know that. But Logan, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” wondered Roman. “You could have, really. Even before Mom died, you could have told me. Do Virgil and Patton know?”

“No, they don’t know anything about it. It was Mom and my secret.” Logan glanced away.

Roman understood. Having something that was only between him and their mother must have been a lifeline for Logan to cling to. And as he realized that, Roman was confused. “So why tell me now?”

“I’ve wanted to tell you since Mom died,” Logan confessed. “And I know I should have. But I wasn't ready, not yet. I was going to before the semester was over, I promise. But the reason I’m telling you  _ now _ is because there’s an astronomy overnight next week and obviously, I couldn’t go without you knowing. Even if I snuck out, you’d know, because you insist on checking on me every single hour.”

“Okay, the fact that you had even  _ considered _ sneaking out as a valid enough option to know the problems with it worries me,” admonished Roman. “But I’ll let that slide this once. Yeah, alright. What day is this overnight, and where is it? Also I’m still debating whether or not I even want you leaving my sight.”

“It’s from Tuesday to Wednesday, on campus. There’s a small observatory in the eastern wing. And why are you worrying about  _ me _ ?” Logan asked. “I haven’t hurt myself and I don’t pass out from panic attacks.”

“No, but you’re  _ thirteen _ ,” emphasized Roman. “And you’re my baby brother. I’m allowed to worry about you. Fine. I’m driving you, though. And you’re giving me your class schedule.”

“Are you going to tell Patton and Virgil?” Logan asked, a note of apprehension in his voice.

Roman pretended to consider it. “If you don’t tell them about my novel, I won’t tell them about your classes. Deal?”

“I’ll let you drive me if you let me read the book,” Logan counter-offered.

“And you have to tell me about your classes at least once a week. And I’m not talking about ‘how was school’, ‘it was fine’, I mean actually tell me. I want the details on what the professors wear and exactly how dumb the kid who sits in front of you is.”

“Nobody sits in front of me. I always sit in the front row, Roman, you know that,” Logan said, confused.

“Do we have a deal?”

“You’re letting me read the book?”

“If you agree to the terms.”

Logan nodded and held out his hand. “I agree to the terms.”

“Done.” Roman shook his head quickly. “Addendum: you also have to sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Back at you.”

“Fine.”

“Addendum accepted,” Logan said.

Roman grinned and wrapped his arms around Logan, who squirmed. “Starting now. And you’re staying here, ‘cause otherwise I can’t trust that you won’t just be reading under your covers with a flashlight.”

“I haven’t tried that since I was ten,” Logan muttered.

Ruffling his little brother’s hair and giggling at the resulting offended squawk, Roman added, “Go turn the lights off, and close my computer for me. We’ll have to sleep until ten tomorrow to meet the seven hour minimum.”

Logan flicked off the lightswitch and powered down the laptop before coming back to the bed and curling up on his side underneath the sheet. He pushed the comforter towards Roman, who gladly accepted the extra blanket. “That doesn’t sound disagreeable,” Logan mumbled.

Closing his eyes, Roman answered, “No, it doesn’t, does it? Night, Lo.”

“Goodnight, Roman.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, depression, brief mention of bullying, mention of physical injuries, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, therapy, crying, hospital mention.

There was a mass of pain somewhere deep inside Patton, somewhere that he couldn’t quite place but seemed to move around in his stomach and chest and sometimes up into his throat where it stayed and festered, choking him with the agony that he had forced into a tiny ball so it didn’t consume him completely. He still smiled, though. He had learned a long time ago how to keep smiling through pain.

When he had broken his wrist in kindergarten, having fallen off the jungle gym because he wanted to see if he could fly, he had smiled. Because Virgil had been there, and Virgil was scared, and Patton had needed to tell him that he was alright. The smile had reassured Virgil enough to go and run for a teacher, because even if Patton was smiling, his wrist was twisted into a strange angle and his palm was bleeding.

In one of Roman’s first plays, he had played the villain. It was a sixth grade production of  _ Beauty and the Beast _ , so he had been Gaston. And Patton had loved every minute of the play, except for the part where Gaston fell off the back of the castle to his death. He didn’t want Roman to fall, but Gaston was bad, so he had to. And Patton had forced back tears as he wondered if someone had caught Roman when he had fallen from the set piece, if there were pillows for him to land on. He had smiled and clapped, though, and only relaxed when Roman had come out for his bows, clearly unharmed and ecstatic at having completed his performance perfectly.

When Patton was in fifth grade, he had come home from school with bruised knuckles and a scraped knee. He had smiled at his mother and insisted that he had just tripped over his shoelaces, that he was absolutely fine. He didn’t tell her that the bruises on his hand were actually from punching someone in the face because they were making fun of Logan. And the kid he had hit went home with a black eye, probably never telling anyone who had hit him, because who would believe that sweet, smiling Patton could ever hurt anyone? Patton never told anyone, either. He knew then and there that there were some secrets he would have to take with him to his grave.

He had  _ thought _ that this was another one. How could he ever tell his brothers that what had started as him biting the back of his wrists and hands to relieve the pain and pressure inside of him had somehow turned into a knife, and he didn’t even know how it had happened?

Well, no, he  _ did _ know how it had happened. After the first few times that he had drawn blood with the biting, he knew that he could seriously damage himself if he continued that way. And besides, bite marks were too conspicuous if anyone noticed them behind the concealer that he had stolen from Roman. A knife would just be cleaner, easier. It wasn’t any  _ worse _ . It was just an easier way to let out some of the pain in the lump inside of him, give it somewhere to go so it wasn’t all trapped inside him to burn and ache. It made it...bearable.

The river had just been a fantasy. A daydream. He had dreamt of what it would feel like to just  _ stand _ in the water. The cold might numb the pain as well as his limbs, washing away the agony. But that was all it was, a daydream. He never intended to actually go to the river.

It had been the shock when he realized that he had actually  _ done _ it, and the shame that Virgil had found him, that had made him cry. And he had cried and cried as they sat there on the bank, as Roman had found them and brought them home. He kept crying as Roman got him clean and dry, and at the exhausted fire in his big brother's eyes as he looked at the marks on Patton's arms. Even as Roman gathered him close and held him against his chest, shushing him and rocking him, he couldn't stop crying. He couldn’t make himself smile anymore. Why couldn’t he smile anymore?

There wasn’t any easy answer, there wasn’t an out from this situation. It had happened. It  _ was _ happening. He couldn’t take it back now.

It hit him again as he walked into Dr. Picani’s office, having to let go of Virgil’s hand and go in there alone for the first time. Because this time, it was  _ him _ who had to get help, not Virgil. He stopped in his tracks, right inside the door as Dr. Picani closed it and went over to lean against his desk.

“Patton?” Dr. Picani said softly. “Patton, do you want to sit down?”

Patton shook his head, but suddenly found that his legs were shaking and he couldn’t stand up anymore. He sank down onto the couch.

“Here, I remember that you like my heffalump,” the therapist said, holding out the pink stuffed animal. “Do you want to hold it again?”

Nodding, Patton grabbed the toy and hugged it. It wasn’t as good as having Virgil there, but it was something, and it calmed him down enough to look up. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi, Patton. Do you how do?” asked Dr. Picani.

“I...I think...Roman told you on the phone…”

“He told me some things, but I would like it if you could tell me in your own words what’s been going on for you. That’s why we’re here, okay? You can tell me anything you want.”

“And you’re not allowed to tell them, right?”

Dr. Picani shook his head. “I can’t tell anyone anything that’s said in here without your permission. I can tell Roman what I think he needs to do to make sure that you’re safe, but that is all.”

“Are…” Patton’s voice shook. “Are you gonna tell him to send me to a hospital?”

“From what I know so far, I don’t think I will be recommending hospitalization, no. But I need you to talk to me, Patton, that’s the only way I can come to more specific conclusions.” Dr. Picani sounded gentle, but he was very serious. “I’m sure you’re very scared, Patton. These situations are frightening for everyone involved. Emotions are running high and they can be confusing and scary themselves. But in here, you are completely safe.”

“I know,” Patton said. There were tears in the corners of his eyes and he tried to wipe them away. “I don’t know what to say, or where to start.”

“How about I start, then?” When Patton nodded gratefully, Dr. Picani continued, “When Roman called me on Saturday night, what he told me was that you had been cutting yourself on your arms, and that you had gone down to the river near your house in crisis, with the intention of drowning yourself.”

“No,” Patton said.

“No? Which part is incorrect, Patton?”

“I wasn't...I wasn't trying to drown myself,” Patton said. “I just...I just wanted the cold of the river to make it stop hurting, and...I guess...I w-wouldn't have fought too hard if I had slipped.” The last part was added in a mumble.

“Ah. But the rest, that's right?”

Suddenly, Patton found himself telling Dr. Picani everything. About the way he needed to keep himself happy because his mother had asked, about how he needed to take care of his family. He told him how it had worked for a week or so after the funeral but then the pain had started, growing inside him until he couldn't stand it. How he had started to bite his hands until the pain inside of him lessened slightly because the other pain was easier to control, and how he had gotten the knife from the garage and an unused notebook from the stack in Roman’s room (he wouldn't miss it among the dozens of others). He talked about the box in his closet and the words he had written and scribbled out. Virgil must have read them. He wondered out loud if his twin had seen the apologies.

“Did writing it down help at all, Patton?” asked Dr. Picani.

Patton thought about it. “No,” he mumbled. “I thought it might, but it never did. It was just...I wanted there to be an explanation if something...happened.” He noticed suddenly that there had been tears streaming down his face the whole time he had been talking. He hadn't even realized before that he was crying, but now that he had, he couldn't stop. He let out a sob.

Dr. Picani held out a box of tissues. “It's alright, it's alright, take a deep breath now,” he said as Patton took a tissue and kept sobbing. “Don't push yourself further than you're comfortable.”

“Th-thanks,” Patton said. He spent a few minutes just crying before he could speak again. A small pile of tissues was beginning to form on the table. “So I guess...I guess that's it, I...I told you what happened.” He waited nervously for the therapist’s response.

“I appreciate it, Patton, thank you for trusting me.” Dr. Picani leaned forward. “Now, this question is very important. Actually, two questions. Do you think that your brothers will be able to provide you with the necessary support to get through this? And--"

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” Patton said quickly. “They…” He cut himself off quickly. “Sorry, keep going.”

“That's alright. But Patton, will  _ you _ be able to let them help you? It's going to be tough, and it's going to be hard for all of you emotionally. You will have to learn how to accept that they aren't going to always be happy, and that you can't change that. You can't hide what you're feeling anymore because you're afraid to make them sad,” Dr. Picani told him.

That gave Patton pause. The therapist was right, he knew that. He took a few deep breaths, trying not to start crying again. It didn't work too well. “I'll try,” he said. “I'll learn, I promise.”

“Are you sure you can do it? It's okay if you say no.”

“I can do it,” Patton insisted. “I...I've already started, I can learn how to tell them more. I'll do anything to m-make sure I can stay at h-home.”

“Alright, alright, I hear you.”

“I can't leave them,” Patton whimpered. “I can't, I couldn't handle that, I need them so much.”

“You're staying with them,” Dr. Picani said clearly. “Patton, look at me. I agree with you. The best thing for you is to stay with your brothers.”

Patton broke down harder, but this time in relief. “Thank you.”

“But you all need to be given tools and information to help you get through this,” added Dr. Picani. “I do need to tell Roman what we have decided, if that is alright with you?”

“Tell him that I'm staying?”

“Yes, exactly. And I'd like to bring him in here to talk to you together about how to proceed.”

“Okay,” agreed Patton swiftly.

“I'll have to leave the room for a minute. Can I call Virgil in to sit with you?” offered Dr. Picani.

Patton had almost gotten his tears under control again, but at that, he burst out sobbing once more. He nodded vehemently.  _ Virgil, I need Virgil. _ He almost hadn't realized how much he was missing his twin being right beside him--they hadn't been apart much in the past couple days.

“Yes? Okay, I'll call him in here. Oh, would you like him and Logan to be with you and Roman and I while we talk? It might be good to have everyone on the same page. But it is entirely your decision.”

“Y-yes,” Patton sniffed. “All of th-them should b-be here.”

“Alright, then I'll get Virgil. Sit tight, Patton.” Dr. Picani headed over to the door. He opened it, but he didn't say anything.

Virgil came rushing into the room. He sat down right next to Patton and held out his arms. Patton fell towards him, letting the heffalump slide off his lap, forgotten. He heard Virgil murmuring softly to him, and he let out a few shaky sobs. The relief of having Virgil there made the lump in his throat disappear. Hearing Virgil say, “I've got him,” Patton nodded. Virgil had him. He was alright now.

He clung to Virgil’s hand the whole rest of the time that they sat in the office, except for when he let go to hug Roman. And when Virgil stayed behind for a moment to talk to Dr. Picani about something, Patton headed right towards Roman again.

“Hi, honey,” Roman murmured, pulling him in tightly. “How are you doing?”

Patton shrugged. He burrowed further into the embrace. Roman’s hugs were always just so warm and safe, it was hard to let go of them. “I'm sorry for arguing with you about your schedule,” he said.

“It's okay, Patty, I know, it's all really hard.”

“And Dr. Picani had just told me that I...I needed to be better about letting you help, too,” Patton admitted. “I'm really, really trying, I promise.”

“Oh…” Roman hugged him even tighter. “I know. I know, Patton, I know you're trying. It's okay. We'll work on it together.”

“I'm so tired,” Patton said. There was a catch in his voice. “Can I just go to sleep when we get home?”

“Of course you can, Patty. And I bet Virge will stay with you if you want. He's been tired, too.”

“His nightmares,” Patton sighed. “I wish I could help.”

“We're all helping each other as best as we can,” Roman reminded him.

“I know.” Patton pressed his face into Roman’s soft t-shirt. “I love you, Ro.”

“Love you, too, Patty. Oh, here comes Virgil. Let's go home, okay?” Roman pulled back.

“Home,” Patton echoed, and as he glanced around at his brothers, he could almost smile.  _ I get to go home. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, unintentional ableism, social/sensory overload, going nonverbal, overworking, lack of sleep, attempted suicide of a family member, mention of severe depression and self harm.

The fact that Logan had to go and talk to one of the school counselors before he was allowed back in the classroom was endlessly annoying to him. He didn’t need to tell some practical stranger how he was feeling about his mother’s death in order to be determined “ready to go back to school”. He had already missed a week, and that was too much as it was. 

Early Sunday morning, he had woken up to find that he was in his own bed, with Roman asleep next to him and Virgil curled up on the floor. Someone must have carried him home from the funeral. That was a bit embarrassing (he was thirteen, he was taking two college classes, and he shouldn’t have to be  _ carried _ anymore), but not as humiliating as running outside  _ crying _ . He didn’t cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but he must have been pretty young.

Virgil had been pretty understanding, though. Of all the brothers, Logan was definitely glad that it had been Virgil who had followed him. As much as he loved Roman and Patton, they were a bit...enthusiastic, about everything they did. But Virgil didn’t even try to  _ make _ him talk, which was why he did. And he probably wouldn’t ever bring up the fact that Logan had ended up crying in his arms. Logan was grateful for that.

And as much as he wished he could deny it, he did wake up that morning feeling...lighter. Calmer. As he got out of bed to go wash the gross, sticky tear tracks off his face, he paused for a moment to pull the blanket that had fallen off of Virgil in the night back over him. And then he carried on, making sure to walk quietly so he didn’t wake anyone. He spent a few minutes scrubbing the salty traces of tears off his cheeks before sneaking back into his room and grabbing his laptop, then going to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.

To his surprise, Patton was sitting on the couch. He appeared to be lost in thought, so Logan said nothing. He got his cereal, sat down at the kitchen table, opened his laptop, and emailed his professors. He had kept them informed of what was happening. They, too, had tried to get him to take more than a week before returning to class. But Logan politely refused their concern.  _ My mother paid for these classes, and I’d prefer to get as much out of them as possible _ , he had written.  _ I am perfectly capable of coming back to campus this week, and I apologize for the classes I missed last week. _ He was sure that they thought he was either just weird or completely heartless (he had received both comments before). He didn’t really care.

In his high school email inbox, there was a message waiting for him from the school counselor. She was really the academic counselor, but the school didn’t really have enough money to keep a full-time psychologist on staff. They had one present on Tuesdays and Thursdays (Logan knew that perfectly well. He had been sent to see her more than once, to both his frustration and hers).  _ At least they’re not making me talk to her again, _ he reasoned. And Dot was okay. Besides, with her, he could just change the subject to academics. She had been his teacher in second grade before she had been moved to the high school, so she knew how seriously he took his classes.

He wondered if Patton and Virgil had to go talk to her as well. Virgil was coming back to school with him tomorrow, anyway, and Patton would probably be coming back next week. But that was okay. Patton took longer.

Speaking of Patton, he hadn’t moved at all since Logan had come into the room. After Logan had finished his cereal, he picked up his laptop and walked over to the couch carefully. Patton didn’t even look at him, so he just sat down silently. He worked on his paper for astronomy for a few minutes before he saw Patton shifting out of the corner of his eye.

“Hi, kiddo,” Patton murmured. “How are you?”

“I am alright.” Logan looked up. “Are you?”

Patton hesitated, then smiled. “I’m good, Lo. Don’t worry about me.”

Logan wasn’t entirely convinced, but trying to figure out what Patton was actually feeling was far beyond him. They sat together in a sort of quiet companionship until Roman and Virgil came out for breakfast and joined them. Virgil talked to Patton for a minute, softly, but Patton didn’t seem to want to engage. Eventually, Virgil gave up and curled up with his head in Patton’s lap. Patton slowly began to move and brighten up, rubbing Virgil’s back and even offering Roman a smile.

The meeting with the counselor the next day went about as well as Logan expected. He was irritated about being pulled out of class, but he wasn’t going to complain about missing P.E. The counselor, who insisted that her students call her Dot instead of any formal title, brought him into her office. “Hello, dear, how are you? Would you sit down?” she asked.

Logan sat down in the overly cushioned armchair and crossed his arms uncomfortably. “I am alright,” he stated. “And I don’t think I need to be here.”

“Okay, I do understand that, Logan,” Dot said kindly. “I know you don’t like talking about your feelings. But this is standard procedure and we really can’t make an exception for you. I know you understand that.”

Begrudgingly, he did understand. So he nodded. “I know you’re following procedure. What do I have to say to leave and be allowed back at school?”

“Well, Logan, to put it simply, we’re worried about you,” Dot told him. “You’re already very young to be a high school student, and you’ve only been here for two and a half months.”

“I have excellent grades,” Logan defended.

“Yes, we know! You’re a very impressive young man. And we’re well aware that you are also enrolled in two courses at the community college. Now, Logan, with everything else that is going on, don’t you think that’s all a little bit too much to put on yourself?” She meant well, she really did. They all did. But none of them understood.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Dot blinked. “Sweetie, you have a heavier workload than ninety percent of our seniors, and you’re thirteen.”

“I know how old I am,” Logan said scornfully. “I’m taking honors Pre-calculus. I know how to count.”

“The question isn’t how smart you are, Logan. We know you’re smart. We’re worried about you emotionally.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Logan wanted to know.

“Your teachers and myself.”

“You’ve been talking about me?”

Dot nodded. “We’ve been talking about you. And your brothers, don’t worry. We haven’t singled you out. But we really think you should talk to someone. A counselor.”

“You’re a counselor.”

“I’m an academic counselor, Logan. I’m not a psychologist.”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “You want me to see a therapist.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” asked Dot.

“It’s fine, for some people. My brother has a therapist. But not for me,” Logan said.

“And why is that, Logan?”

“Because I’m fine, first of all.”

“I find that hard to believe, honey,” Dot said skeptically.

Logan leaned forward slightly. “Well, I can’t force you to change your beliefs. However, I have a few questions about counting my current college courses and future ones for high school credit--”

“Logan,” Dot reproached. “Logan, we aren’t changing the subject today.”

“Why not?” Logan couldn’t stop a slight whine from escaping in his voice. He flicked his fingers a few times and started bouncing his leg to calm himself down. He wished he had remembered to get one of his tangles out of his backpack and put it in his pocket before coming in here.

“Because you haven’t convinced me that you’re emotionally ready to return to classes,” Dot informed him.

“But I  _ have _ to!” Logan exclaimed, the words feeling heavy in his mouth, weighing his tongue down. “Class--I have to--I--I--I--”

“Logan?” Dot asked worriedly. “Are you alright, sweetie?”

Logan groaned wordlessly. He had guessed this was going to happen, but he had hoped it wasn’t. He opened his mouth, but still couldn’t speak. Did he still have those cards that Patton had made him, despite his protests that he wouldn’t go non-verbal at school? They might be in the back of one of his folders…

“Logan, honey, what are you looking for? Talk to me, okay?” Dot sounded very concerned now as she watched Logan flip through his backpack.

_ There! _ Logan pulled out a laminated note-card, printed with words that explained that he was non-verbal currently, that he would be fine, and he would appreciate it if nobody tried to force him to speak.  _ Signed, Logan’s older brother who will not be happy if Logan is disrespected. Thank you! _ He handed the card to Dot, wishing Patton hadn’t been so dramatic with them but suddenly grateful that he had made them in the first place.

Dot scanned the card, frowned, and then nodded at him. “Okay, Logan. Would it be easier for you to write?”

Well, really, Logan would prefer to find somewhere dark and quiet to calm down, but he could still write. He nodded reluctantly and took the pen and pad of paper she handed him. He handed the pen back and pulled out one of his own from his backpack (he had a very specific type of pen he could use).

“Can you tell me why you’re non-verbal? Take as long to write as you need.”

_ I do not process emotions in the same way as most people. I occasionally go non-verbal when I am exceptionally frustrated, or during a sensory overload. But in this case, it is the former. _ He showed her the paper.

“Why are you frustrated?”

_ Because you were not  _ _ listening _ _ to me _ , Logan wrote, underlining for emphasis.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Logan, I--” Dot stopped talking as Logan shot her a glare and kept writing.

_ I know my limits. School is easy for me. This workload is entirely manageable for me--obviously, from my grades. And I have enough time and energy still to pursue my other interests, as well as spend time with my family. My routine is important to me, and spending one week without it was difficult enough, though necessary. I need to return to it. And I do not want to be forced to talk to a therapist, because  _ _ this _ _ will happen again, and it is not pleasant. I know I don’t have a loud voice right now, but please, imagine that I am raising my voice when I say this: Listen to me. Please. _ Logan’s hands were shaking when he handed her the notepad and waited for her response.

She took a while to read it, then placed it down on her desk. He could tell she was trying to make eye contact with him, but he stared up at the ceiling. “I’m listening to you, Logan,” she said quietly. “And I hear you. You can return to class, if you promise me that you’ll come to me--or anyone else, really--if you start to feel overwhelmed, or if you need anything at all.”

Logan nodded emphatically and reached for the notepad.  _ I would actually prefer if I could have a few more minutes in which I am excused from class this morning. I do not like being non-verbal in class, it is uncomfortable. _

“Of course, as long as you need. Do you want me to call Virgil down to the office for you, would it help to have your brother here?” offered Dot.

Shaking his head, Logan wrote,  _ I just need some time by myself. _

“There’s a little room just across the hall, we keep for anyone who needs somewhere quiet to be. Your brother has come here a few times to use it. Do you want to go there?” Dot asked.

Logan shrugged and nodded. He stood up and grabbed his backpack, following Dot out of her office and in through the door with a sign that said  _ Quiet Room _ in fancy, looping cursive, and a card hanging from the doorknob which read  _ Empty _ in green letters. Dot turned it around to read  _ Occupied _ in purple. There was a small couch and a bookshelf with all sorts of books on it in the room, as well as several pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals on the ground. Logan put his backpack down on the ground and sat on the couch, breathing deeply.

“You’ll be alright in here?” asked Dot.

Logan reached for the lightswitch and turned off the overhead light, which was making the same annoying, high-pitched buzzing that every light in the school made. There was a floor lamp in the corner, though, so he wasn’t left in total darkness. He nodded at Dot.

“Make sure to wave to me when you’re leaving so I know to tell your teacher you’re coming. But take as long as you need.” Dot smiled gently at him and then left, closing the door quietly.

After grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to his chest for the pressure, Logan took a few deep breaths and rocked forwards and backwards. He wondered if he would end up telling any of his brothers about going non-verbal today. Not Roman--he would try to convince Logan to stay home tomorrow, meaning well but not quite getting it. And Virgil always got so worried and overprotective. He’d probably get mad at Dot, even though it wasn’t her fault.

But he might tell Patton. Patton had trouble speaking when he was overwhelmed, too. He just had a slight stutter sometimes, nothing too extreme, but he understood more than the others. When it happened at home, Patton would shoo Roman and Virgil and their mother away and just sit with him on the floor with a container full of cookies and some quiet music.

Logan sighed. “‘Because I could not stop for Death / He kindly stopped for me / The Carriage held but just Ourselves / And Immortality’,” he whispered, still rocking. The first stanza of that particular Emily Dickinson poem was one of his favorite verbal stims--a perfectly smooth rhythm and words that rolled off his tongue when nothing else would. “‘Because I could not stop for Death / He kindly stopped for me / The Carriage held but just Ourselves / And Immortality’.” And so he repeated it, until the pressure in his throat lessened and he knew he would be verbal again.

Not quite ready to go back to class yet (if he waited another ten minutes, P.E. would be over and he could just join his English class at the beginning like nothing had happened), he continued mumbling the stanza under his breath. Besides, the couch was comfortable, and if he was honest, it was really nice to be entirely alone. Not that he didn’t like to spend time with his brothers, but it was exhausting. This Quiet Room was a nice thing for the school to have. Now that he knew it existed, he might come here more often if he couldn’t find an empty classroom to sit in during lunch.

After Roman had picked him and Virgil up from school, Logan went right to Patton's room. His head hurt and he was tired and going non-verbal once in a day made it much more likely to happen again.

Patton's door was closed, so Logan knocked. A few moments later, Patton called, “Who is it?”

Logan tapped on the door four times. He had established that code with Patton a long time ago, which meant ‘It's Logan and I don't want to talk but please let me in'.

“Oh, okay. Hang on just a sec, kiddo.” Patton opened the door. “C’mon in, Lo. Sorry for the mess, I was...I was just going through my closet.”

The floor was scattered with all sorts of things, clothes and books and papers and stuffed animals cluttering up the ground to the point where it was hard to walk without tripping. Logan managed to get to Patton's bed, which remarkably had only some clothes and stuffed animals on it. He gazed around at the mess.

“Sorry,” Patton said again. “I know, it's a disaster. Mom would…” He forced a smile. “Mom would say a tornado blew through my room. I was just looking through all my old things. I've got so much stuff, hm? Can't...can't get rid of anything.” He nudged a few stacks of books and old school binders out of the way and made his way over to the bed. “So, hey, Lo. What kind of no-talking is it today?”

“Went non-verbal at school earlier,” Logan mumbled. “I'm okay now, but…”

“No, I get it. It's okay. Hey, I'm sorry. I know that's hard for you, Logan. You sure you're doing okay?” checked Patton. “Need anything from me?”

“Can I stay in here for a while?” Logan asked. The words were heavy again, but he spoke them clearly and deliberately.

“Of course, kiddo. Mind if I keep cleaning up? I've really got to do something about all this stuff.” Patton sighed. “There's just...so  _ much _ of it, you know? And I don't want to get rid of anything.”

“I can help.”

“No, Lo, it's okay. It's something I gotta do by myself, okay? Sorry, kiddo.” Patton scooped up an armful of clothes and brought it over to the desk chair and started folding them.

Logan curled up on the bed, reaching for his favorite of Patton’s stuffed animals (a large, soft plush bumblebee), and hugged it to his chest. He watched Patton fold the clothes and walk back and forth to his dresser, the repetitive movement relaxing Logan until his eyes were closing. Patton put on some classical music and kept cleaning.

Observing had always been something that Logan was good at. He noticed changes in behavior that other people didn't, though he never knew which changes actually meant something and which held no significance.

The changes that he saw in Patton over the next several weeks meant something. He had no idea at the time. In hindsight, the symptoms of severe depression were obvious. But Logan just didn't understand the complexities of displays of grief well enough to realize that Patton was experiencing something out of the ordinary and extremely harmful, possibly life-threatening.

He wouldn't blame himself. He was too logical for that, and he knew that it wasn't his fault. Guilt wasn't a problem he was having after it had happened, not like Roman, who bore the incident on his shoulders as a burden none else could help to carry.

No, Logan never felt guilty about Patton’s suicide attempt. Afterwards, though, he found himself thinking that nothing he was doing was enough. That even his impressive intellect and work drive wouldn't be enough to fix everything he wanted to fix.

Trying to study psychology as well as biochemistry was starting to wear him a little thin. Logan prided himself on his ability to handle a workload better than his peers, but as he began to read the many psychology books that he borrowed from the library, he realized that there just weren't enough hours in a day. So he cut back even more on sleep than he had previously, and that worked for a few days, getting only three hours of sleep every night. He knew that wasn't ideal, of course, but there was too much to learn to worry about his own health.

Reaching out to Roman hadn't been easy for him. He had never had the smoothest relationship with his eldest brother. They loved each other, of course, but they held very different world-views and opinions. They had grown closer since their mother got sick. Logan started to appreciate the stories that Roman read to him, if only for the technical mastery held within the pages. And Roman listened to him when he wanted to infodump, though he would often attempt to relate the topic to one of his own interests, usually in wild and convoluted trains of thought. Roman didn't understand Logan's need for quiet, and Logan didn't understand Roman’s need for loud, flashy dramatics.

But their misunderstandings were an understood thing. Neither would ever try to force the other to see things from their point of view, at least not anymore. Anyone (well, except for the people who actually knew them) viewing their frequent arguments would disagree with that statement, but it was true. Their debates were their own way of communicating, and the fact that Logan almost never went non-verbal during the confrontations made it clear (to those who knew them well enough to care) that they weren't really fighting or in any distress. They were just talking how they talked.

After their compromise, when Logan had agreed to sleep more if Roman would let him read his novel, things started to get better. He also abandoned his psychology textbooks, deciding that could wait for a while. Roman really did make sure that both of them were getting at least seven hours of sleep a night, even if Logan just curled up on his floor or the foot of his bed after reading and editing another chapter of the book. And things were okay. Not great, but okay.

Logan decided that ‘okay' was adequate for now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, mention of nightmares, mention of attempted suicide of a family member, mention of severe depression and self harm, recovery, mention of panic attacks, food, forgetting to eat, Christmas.

Virgil couldn't sleep. Patton had stayed in his room for three weeks before deciding he was ready to go back to his own bed after getting rid of the box, and it had been three nights since he had left. Even after sleeping fine the first two nights, Virgil found that he was missing the reassurance of having his twin beside him. But his nightmares weren't nearly as bad as they had been the first couple of weeks, and Virgil knew that Patton needed to regain a sense of normalcy.

So Virgil had resolved not to go running to him unless he had a nightmare. And that wasn't the case tonight. He just...couldn't seem to fall asleep. He laid in bed for ages, tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall put him on instant alert. He sat up. It was definitely Patton's footsteps. About to go rushing into the hallway, Virgil froze when there was a tiny knock and an even tinier sob outside his door. The door opened slightly before he could answer.

“Virge?” whispered Patton. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I'm awake,” Virgil said quickly. He hopped out of bed. “Come in, hey, are you okay?”

“I hope I didn't wake you…”

“You didn't, I was already awake.” Virgil took Patton’s arm and pulled him into the room gently.

“Oh, okay…” Patton sounded distracted. His breathing was a little too fast, a few tears slipping from his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. “I...I was asleep…”

“Did you have a bad dream?” Virgil asked. Patton was sinking down to sit on the ground, and Virgil followed his lead.

“I don't know, maybe.” Patton was fiddling with his sleeves. Virgil recognized that behavior. He was trying to keep his hands from doing something else.

“Can I hold your hands?” Virgil requested gently. When Patton nodded, Virgil took his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his twin’s palms. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Are you sure I didn't wake you?”

“I promise, I couldn't sleep tonight anyway for some reason.”

“Sorry.” Patton’s lip trembled. “I just woke up, and I didn't feel good, and I didn't want to be alone.”

“It's okay, it's okay. What's wrong, Patty? Why don't you feel good, can you tell me what's wrong?” Virgil asked, trying not to sound too worried.

“Just...my head hurts, and I...my thoughts…” Patton pulled his hand loose for a second to tap his forehead, and then grabbed Virgil’s hand again. “It's bad, tonight.”

“Did you, um, do anything?” Virgil faltered, trying not to immediately start examining Patton's arms for fresh cuts.

“No, I felt like I was gonna, but I know I'm supposed to come to you when I feel like that.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that's right. I'm so glad you did, Patty.”

Patton nodded. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course, yeah, of course. Always, Patton.”

“I'm just really sad tonight,” Patton said. “So I came here. To be sad.”

“That's okay. Do you need to cry, or talk, or just sit here, or…?”

“Just sit, for now.”

“Sounds good.” Virgil squeezed his hands. “Let me know if there's anything I can do.”

“Love you, Virgil,” Patton murmured.

“Love you, too.” Letting the room fall into silence, Virgil breathed evenly. He was starting to feel sleepy, but he wouldn't fall asleep until he was sure that Patton was alright.

Pretty soon, Patton started crying. It was just a few tears at first, but soon he collapsed into sobs and let Virgil gather him close. Virgil rocked slowly.

“I've gotcha. You can talk if you want, but you don't have to.” He rubbed Patton’s shoulders.

Patton didn't talk. He clung to Virgil and cried for several minutes. When his tears seemed to have run out, he shivered and whispered, “It's scary, Virge.”

“I know,” Virgil told him. “I know, Patton, I really do know. You're safe, I'm here. You'll be okay, I've got you. You keep fighting, and I'll be here fighting right next to you. I've got your back, Patty, always have, always will. It's okay that you're scared.”

“Okay,” breathed Patton. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Virgil repeated.

“Can we go to bed now?”

Virgil pulled Patton to his feet and over to the bed. He let Patton lay down first, and then curled up around him. “Sleep well,” he mumbled. “Wake me up if you need anything. Really, I won't mind.”

“I will, I promise.” Patton sniffed. “Hey, Virge?”

“Hm?”

“Are you worried about Logan and Roman at all?”

“Um…” Virgil didn't know what to say for a second. “I'm always worried about all of you,” he decided on. “Why?”

“‘Cause, well, both of them are keeping something from us.”

“What?” Virgil frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. “What do you mean?”

“Um...well, I think Roman is writing again. And I've been too distracted recently to realize it before, but Logan has, like, a hidden stack of textbooks in his room. Astronomy and like, biology and psychology and chemistry, and I know they're not high school textbooks.”

“You know he borrows tons of stuff from the library.”

“But they're not library books, and even if they were, why would he hide them?” Patton wondered.

“I...I don't know. I guess we could ask him tomorrow.”

“Good,” Patton said, and he yawned. “We shouldn't be keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, Patty. You're so right, none of us should be keeping secrets from each other.” Virgil found his hands again and held them tightly.

“Secrets are bad,” mumbled Patton. He seemed partially asleep as he put his head down against Virgil's shoulder. “Night, Virge.”

“Sleep well, Patty.”

The next day, Patton insisted upon confronting Logan. He started casually, saying, “So, Roman is writing again. Any idea what it is?”

“Yes,” Logan answered. He didn't look up from his laptop, sitting on the floor in the living room.

Virgil and Patton exchanged glances. They hadn't expected him to be that forthcoming. “Um, what's he writing?” Virgil asked.

“Not my place to tell you.” Logan looked up. “Have you only just noticed this? He's been writing since Mom died.”

“We've been a bit preoccupied to notice things, Lo, we're not as observant as you,” Virgil told him. “And that's okay, honestly, we won't press. He will tell us, though, right? Eventually?”

“When he's ready, I think he will.” Logan brought his hand up to his mouth nervously. “Don't tell him I confirmed your suspicions, though. I promised I wouldn't, but since you  _ asked _ , and I am not a very good liar, I thought…”

“It's fine, we won't tell him,” Patton assured him. “Sorry to put you in that position, kiddo.”

“It's fine.”

“Although...I have another question,” Patton added. “The stack of textbooks that I saw when I grabbed you your backpack the other day…”

Logan froze. “I'm not going to lie to you,” he said carefully. “But I'm not ready to talk to you about that yet. I'm talking to Roman, and he's fine with everything. You don't have to worry, alright?”

Patton looked like he wasn't entirely satisfied with that answer, but he let it go. “Okay, Lo. You can come to us whenever you want to talk about it, okay?”

“I understand. Is that all?” Logan asked. “Only, I'm in the middle of writing an essay.”

“Sorry for bothering you, kiddo, good luck with your essay.” Patton kissed the top of his head and stood up, heading back to Virgil's room.

“Hey, Patton?” Virgil said suddenly, after they had been sitting doing various quiet activities for an hour or so. “Are you coming back to school after winter break?”

Patton stiffened, his expression going from calm to tense and unhappy.

“It's okay if you don't know,” Virgil said swiftly. “I was just...wondering.”

“I don't know,” said Patton softly. “I'm not ready to think about that yet.”

Virgil set his homework aside. “Do you want a hug?”

“Always.” Patton tossed his book down and slid over to lean against Virgil's side.

“Hey,” Virgil murmured. “Hey, hey, hey, I've got you. Patton, whatever you decide, however long you need, I'm with you. I'll support you. You're never alone in this.”

Patton put his arms around Virgil’s waist. “I know.”

“You can talk to me about it, while you're thinking.” Virgil brushed his fingers through his twin’s curls. “You need a haircut,” he noticed.

With a small giggle, Patton said, “I know.”

“Well, as long as you know,” Virgil teased. More seriously, he said, “You're talking to Dr. Picani about school, right?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Patton. “He says I don't have to know when I'll go back, either.”

“Right, of course, but you're talking to him.”

“About all sorts of things, Virge. He's great, I…” Patton's voice trailed off. “I'm working on things, I promise.”

“I know you are.” Virgil rubbed his hand up and down Patton’s arm. “I know you are. You're working so hard, and you're so strong. I'm so, so proud of you.”

Suddenly, Patton let out a sob. Virgil was startled. He hadn't been expecting that.

“Oh, oh, what's wrong? Patty?” Virgil pleaded. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

“Y-you...for a second, you s-sounded like Mom,” Patton sobbed. “I-I’m sorry, I j-just, I wish she w-was here t-to tell m-me...that she's p-proud of me, t-too.”

“Oh, my god, Patty.” Virgil pulled him into the tightest hug he could manage, holding him through his heaving sobs and trying not to start crying himself. “Oh, my god. Oh, shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's okay, shhh. She is, she's so proud of you. I promise, oh,  _ god _ , Patton, she would be  _ so proud  _ of you. Shhh, Patty, shhh.”

“I h-hate that I'm never g-gonna hear her s-say it again.” Patton was only barely understandable, his sobs interrupting his words and his face buried in Virgil’s hoodie.

“I know, I know, I know,” Virgil chanted, as if providing his understanding and solidarity would make it hurt less. “I know, I know, I know.”

The partially opened door was pushed the rest of the way open. “Patton? Virgil? You’re crying, did something happen?” Logan said, fear leaking into his voice. “Are you okay?”

Virgil managed to push past the lump in his throat and say, “We're just being sad, Lo. Nothing new happened.”

“Oh,” Logan sighed, clearly relieved. “Can I help?”

“Cookies,” Virgil said softly. “Cookies and hot chocolate, and I'll get some blankets. Will you sit with us?”

“Yeah. I'll be right back.” Logan hesitated, then came over and put his hands on each of their heads for a second. It was an awkward, unpracticed attempt at physical comfort, but the gesture made it possible for Virgil to give him a watery smile.

“Thanks, Lo,” he whispered.

“Uh-huh,” Logan mumbled, and rushed back out of the room.”

“Pat,” Virgil said, struggling not to break down.  _ Not yet. In a minute. _ “Patty, I'm gonna let go of you for a second, I'm gonna get blankets, it'll help--"

“No,” Patton wailed. “No, don't let go of me, please, please.”

“Okay, alright, I won't! Shh, not going anywhere, then.” Virgil held him tighter to prove his point. “Patton, I'm about to start crying, too, okay?”

“I've got you,” Patton said, and that was all it took for Virgil to give in.

He heard Logan come back into the room a couple minutes later, could smell the hot chocolate in mugs on the tray that Logan placed on the ground, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything through his tears. He cried more quietly than Patton, tears pouring down his face and the occasional hiccuping sob escaping when the pressure built up too much inside of him. A blanket was being draped around him and Patton, and Logan settled down on the floor a foot or so away from them.

“Hot chocolate and cookies,” he said quietly. “For when you're ready. And a blanket, because it looked like neither of you were gonna be able to move to get that on your own.”

“Th-thank you, L-Lo,” Patton coughed. He had already exhausted himself, his sobs no longer holding the same amount of force. “Love you s-so much, kiddo.”

Logan pulled the blanket a bit tighter around them. “I love you, too.”

Virgil tried to breathe evenly, not wanting his crying to turn into an anxiety attack because he wasn't getting enough air. Seeming to intuitively know this, Patton started to rub his back. Even though he was still crying as well, he whispered, “It's okay, Virgil, b-breathe, sweetheart. I've got you.”

His tears ran out eventually. Virgil sat slumped, holding Patton and being held by him, trembling with sudden exhaustion.  _ I haven't cried hard in a couple weeks, _ Virgil thought tiredly.  _ I needed that. _

“Your hot chocolate is still warm,” Logan told them. “Do you still want it?”

Trying to nod, Virgil wiped his eyes. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely. He and Patton stayed pressed against each other as they took the mugs, sips of the sweet beverage making everything seem a little bit easier. Lighter. The sun was setting outside, and Virgil stared out the window for a second. Roman would be getting home from work soon.

Patton reached for the cookies first, nibbling half-heartedly at one. “I think Christmas isn't gonna be very fun this year,” he said rather suddenly.

“That's okay. We don't have to do anything,” Virgil said. He sniffed and wiped his eyes again.

“But I love Christmas,” Patton said, distraught. “Nothing seems fun. Christmas is in a week, and it should be fun.”

“Patton, we've talked about this. It's okay if things aren't fun and happy right now.” Virgil picked up a cookie and gazed at it rather dismally. “I'm not even sure I can eat this. It doesn't seem fun, either.”

“Maybe we'll just watch Christmas movies and have a quiet day,” Patton suggested. “With lots of cuddling.”

Closing his eyes and putting the cookie back down onto the tray, Virgil leaned his head against Patton’s shoulder. “That sounds nice, Patty,” he said.

“I guess it's okay if we're not perfectly happy on Christmas,” Patton said. “But I don't want us to be miserable.”

“That's a good goal.” Virgil yawned.

“We can put up a few strings of lights,” Patton continued, “and I'll bake cookies. And we can all pick a Christmas movie and maybe sing some songs. And it won't be too bad.”

“That does sound like a good plan,” Logan said.

“Ro will think it's a good idea, too,” added Virgil.

“You think so?” Patton said hopefully.

Some of the weight that had settled in Virgil’s stomach started to feel lighter. He reached for the cookie that he had set down and took a bite, the warm taste of cinnamon filling his mouth. “He definitely will.” The sound of the front door opening could be heard, and Virgil smiled. “But let's ask him ourselves.”

A couple seconds later, Roman walked into the room, looking rather exhausted but happy to be home. His face fell when he saw the state that his little brothers were in, tear-stained eyes and with the typical comfort food of cookies and hot chocolate. “Hey, there,” he said gently. “Everyone okay?”

Patton sniffed. “Better now,” he said. “Want a cookie?”

“I'd love one.” Roman sat down on the ground with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed a cookie and ate it quickly. “Long day. But it's over now. You guys wanna tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened, really,” Patton said. “I just got sad. And that made Virgil sad, so Logan brought us cookies.”

“Good on you, li’l teach,” Roman said, giving the youngest boy a thumbs up. Logan returned it. “You're alright, now, though? Or, uh, better, at least?”

“Better,” Patton confirmed. His hand came up to play with Virgil’s hair. “And we talked about Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah? What about Christmas?” Roman asked.

Patton explained their ideas. Virgil tried to pay attention, but he was tired, and he just snuggled closer to Patton and tried to stay awake.

“Sounds like a plan,” Roman said. “You can make all the deserts and I'll figure out the rest of the food, okay, Patty?”

“Okay!” Patton agreed. “Wait--we  _ are _ doing presents, right? Because I already have some for you!”

“I have things planned,” Roman reassured him.

“I also have gifts for you all,” Logan confirmed.

“Me, too,” Virgil mumbled sleepily.

“Oh, good,” Patton said, relieved. “It would have been strange if I was the only one giving presents.”

“Have you all eaten?” Roman asked.

“Um...I ate a cookie?” Patton said guiltily.

Roman sighed. “Alright. Up, up, up, c’mon, I'll heat up some leftover pasta.”

Virgil whined, holding on tighter to Patton’s waist as Roman tried to get him to stand up. 

“Hey, you too, Virgil, ‘cause if Patton didn't eat, you didn't eat. Logan, did you eat?”

“I had a sandwich about an hour ago, and I'm not hungry now,” Logan replied.

“At least one of you knows how to take care of yourself,” muttered Roman, finally managing to pull Patton away from Virgil’s hold. “Virgil, if you don't stand up, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the kitchen.”

“I'm tired,” Virgil complained.

“Me, too.” And with that, Roman made good on his word and picked Virgil up, tossing him over his shoulder as Virgil shrieked in complaint and Patton laughed.

“Put me down!” yelped Virgil. “Roman!” He glared at his brother as he was dumped unceremoniously into a kitchen chair. “Rude!”

“You need to  _ eat _ !” Roman retorted, poking Virgil in the stomach.

Patton plopped down in the chair next to Virgil, giggling. “So let’s eat and then we can watch a movie and go to bed.”

“Bed. Bed sounds nice.” Virgil tucked his feet up onto the chair. “I’m tired. Crying makes me tired.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, the smile not entirely leaving his lips but his expression gaining a sort of solemnity as he took Virgil’s hand. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Roman leaned down and hugged both of them quickly. “I got the message. Let's eat quickly then.”

After managing to eat enough pasta so that Roman stopped bugging him, Virgil was decidedly exhausted. He and Patton were led over to the couch and given more cookies. A warm blanket was draped over their laps by Roman, who then put on a movie. Virgil honestly wasn't paying any attention to the movie. He was pretty sure that Patton fell asleep after ten minutes.

“Okay,” Roman said softly, hitting pause. “Okay, movie wasn't the best idea. Bedtime now.” He picked Patton up and carried him to Virgil’s room. “That okay, Virge?”

“It's fine,” Virgil yawned. “I'll go brush my teeth. Sit with him until I get back?”

“Of course,” Roman assured him, tucking Patton in. Virgil went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then came back to his room. “Hey, um, Virgil?” Roman said as he walked in. “What made you two so sad earlier?”

Virgil bit his lip. “He was just missing Mom,” he murmured. “I said something that reminded him of her and he...just kind of broke down.”

“Ah.” Roman brushed Patton's hair away from his forehead. “And you?”

“It's hard to see him so upset.” Virgil sat down on the edge of the bed next to his older brother. “Both of us have a hard time when the other is crying. You must have noticed by now that it usually ends with both of us in tears.”

“He's totally asleep now, though?”

Virgil barely had to look at his twin to be able to nod. “Yeah, he's out.”

“How are you doing?” Roman asked. He touched Virgil's shoulder. “I haven't checked up with you in the past few days and, y’know, I'm supposed to be the responsible, grown-up one and all.”

“I'm...alright, I guess,” Virgil answered. “I really am tired, though.”

“Nightmares?”

“Getting better, and working on it with Dr. Picani.” Virgil nestled against Roman’s side.

“Good.” Roman started rubbing his back, adding, “Do you know when Patty is thinking he can go back to school? The admin people keep sending me emails. His grades…”

“He's not sure yet. He's working on that, too.” Virgil pulled away so he could lay down, tugging the covers up around his shoulders. “It's taking all his energy just to get better, Roman. Try not to put too much pressure on him to move at anything other than his own pace.”

“I'll try,” Roman said. He put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, pressing gently through the blankets. “Love you, Virge. Sleep well.”

“Love you,” Virgil echoed, and he closed his eyes with Roman’s fingers carding through his hair.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, therapy, mention of nightmares, mention of attempted suicide, mention of severe depression and self harm, recovery, mention of panic attacks, food, forgetting to eat, Christmas.

“...Is there something else? Patton?”

Patton flinched. “I...I'm sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“It's alright,” Dr. Picani said. “All I said was, I think I can tell that there's something else you wanted to talk to me about today. Is there?”

Biting his lip, Patton nodded. “Yeah. ‘Cause, um, it's the start of Christmas break, you know, and... _ school _ .”

“We had initially said you might take a month on medical absence,” Dr. Picani acknowledged. “And that month is over now.”

“Dr. Picani, I…” Patton struggled to keep the tears back from his eyes. He hadn't cried yet during this session and he kind of hoped he'd make it through the whole hour with no tears. “I don't want to go back to school.”

“Okay, how long do you think you might need?” asked Dr. Picani.

“Um…” Patton took a deep breath. “I'm failing three of my six classes, and I have Cs in the other three. And I used to have mostly Bs. I'm doing...as much work as I can on independent study, but I can't get my grades up, obviously for this semester and probably not for the whole year.”

Dr. Picani nodded to show that he understood. “And what do you want to do about that, Patton?”

“I...I don't think I'm going to finish high school,” Patton whispered. He looked at his lap in shame. “Even if I tried, I think I would fail out and not get a diploma.”

“You want to drop out.”

“Yes,” Patton said, and his heart sank as he said it out loud. “And--and I'm scared.”

“Why are you scared, Patton?”

“Because I know...that Roman won't like it.” Patton sniffed, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. “He'll feel like he failed me again, and he won't want me to do it because he wants me to succeed. And Logan...education is so important to him, he just won't understand!”

“Patton, your brothers want you to be healthy. If not completing high school is something that will help you to stay healthy, they will understand,” said Dr. Picani. “However, I realize that the prospect of telling them something like this can be daunting. And this is your decision to make--you will be eighteen in January, and Roman will no longer be responsible for you.”

“Yeah,” Patton mumbled. “I'm scared of that, too.”

“Becoming an adult?” Dr. Picani said, sounding a bit amused. “Patton, being afraid of growing up is not unusual at all.”

“It's just so much responsibility,” Patton said anxiously. “I don't know what I'm doing, I mean, I have absolutely no idea how to do adult things!”

“I'll tell you a secret. Nobody does. Patton, I promise, as terrifying as it seems, you'll do fine as an adult. And you aren't being dropped off all on your own, either. Your family is there to help you, and so am I. But back to your school decision, Patton, how would you feel about extending your medical leave until the end of January?” suggested Dr. Picani. “That gives you more time to make the choice, more perspective, and if at the end of the month, you still feel that it would be in your best interest to leave school, it will be a simpler process than if you were to leave now while you're still seventeen.”

A bit of weight lifted off Patton’s chest. “Is that okay?” he asked. “Two months off...it's a long time. Will admin let me?”

“It isn't a matter of letting you, Patton. They don't have a choice in the matter. That choice lies with you and your guardian and your doctors. If that seems like a good plan to you, I can write the initial letter to your school as soon as Roman puts in the request.”

“Okay.” Patton tried to take another deep breath, but ended up with his breathing starting to get more rapid. “But what if I do decide to drop out and everyone is disappointed in me? And--"

Dr. Picani held up his hand. “Patton, breathe. There's no need for what-ifs right now, no need for panic. You have time, and you are perfectly capable of explaining your decision to your brothers. Take a moment to remember that they support you and love you and trust you to know yourself and your limits. Are you remembering?”

_ They do support me, _ Patton told himself.  _ And they do love me. And Virgil is proud of me. He's always going to be proud of me, no matter what. _ Calming down, he nodded. “I'm okay now.”

“Let's talk about this more next week,” Dr. Picani said. “We can discuss possible courses of action for if you choose to leave school along with our usual conversation. Since this is over the winter holidays, it will be the longest time you've gone without a session since you started here with me. I have faith that you'll be perfectly fine, but as always, you have my emergency number and you're free to call me if you need me. Have a wonderful Christmas, Patton, and a happy New Year. Take care of yourself!”

“You, too, Dr. Picani, thanks.” Patton smiled as he left the office. He hadn't cried once. He was pretty sure that counted as progress.

The boxes he was hiding in his closet now held only good secrets. On Christmas Eve, he closed his door and pulled the boxes out to wrap the presents for his brothers one at a time.

First, Roman’s gift. Patton had actually collaborated with Virgil for this one. He had gotten a fancy red leather notebook with a shiny golden ribbon bookmark and a magnetic clasp for Roman, and Virgil had gotten him a nice set of gold, red, and white fountain pens with the kind of ink he liked. Patton slipped a heartfelt note inside the journal and placed it into a gift bag, adding colorful tissue paper as the final touch.

Logan was also getting a book, but his was old and already filled with words, not shiny brand new with blank pages. He had been talking for a while about how much he wanted this specific edition of  _ The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes _ , but had seemed to decide it wasn't very important after their mother had become very ill. When Patton had seen it in a glass case in a used book store, its blue cover faded and scarred, he had known that he needed to get it for his little brother. He also had purchased a cheap costume deerstalker cap online as a joke, knowing for a fact that Logan would go off on a rant about how Holmes never once wore a deerstalker in the books and that it was entirely an invention of the early stageplay adaptations. Patton was counting on it. He adored listening to Logan talk about the things he loved.

As always, Virgil's gift has been the most difficult. How could Patton possibly find anything to give his twin that said enough? No object could ever convey all of his love and gratitude. But when Patton had realized that the gift didn't  _ have _ to say all that, because Virgil already knew it, the gift finding became a lot easier. 

A set of lavender scented candles and a fleece-lined hoodie with patches that Patton hand-stitched on were placed carefully into a gift box. The hoodie was folded carefully, smoothed down around the edges and covered in crisp white tissue paper that made a lovely crinkling sound when Patton pressed down on it. An envelope containing a handwritten letter was slipped into the bottom of the box. Patton hoped Virgil would know not to open it until he was alone. He was pretty sure there would be tears, and wanted Virgil to have the option of whether or not to let his brothers see them.

Patton placed the presents back into his closet, draped a blanket over them to hide them in case anyone came snooping (not likely, but the impatient Logan had tried it one year, having intended to wrap the gifts back up perfectly like he had never seen them. Their mother had a lot to say about that one). 

He got ready for bed and then knelt down on his bed next to his window, drawing back the blinds and looking up at the clear night sky dotted with stars. He put his hand on the glass and shivered at the cold.

“Merry Christmas, Mama,” he whispered up at the stars. “I hope you're having a good one up there. We miss you. I just want you to know that we're doing okay. It was a bit rocky for awhile, but we're getting there. And we love you. We're having Christmas tomorrow, our first one without you. And I know it's gonna be really tough for all of us. But you'd be so proud of us, because we're actually starting to be more okay. At least, I hope you'd be proud of us.” He sniffled. “I'm sorry if I've been worrying you. I wasn't in a good place since you left, and I'm really sorry. I'm getting better now, I've gotten help, and I'm really getting better. But please, I hope you're not disappointed by how I'm doing in school. You always said education was so important, and I...I don't want to let you down by dismissing that. But I'm struggling, Mama, and I think I really need to just focus on getting better. Okay, I just wanted to tell you that. Merry Christmas, I love you.”

A shooting star caught his attention from the corner of his eyes. It was only there for a split second, but Patton smiled at it. He knew it was just a piece of meteor that was burning up in the Earth’s atmosphere. Still, it reminded him of the time that Roman had told him that shooting stars were the angels’ way of waving at Earth. He let himself believe that it was Mama blowing him a kiss goodnight.

A light touch on his chest woke him up in the middle of the night. His eyes opened slowly, and he heard breathing that was slightly too fast. “Virgil,” he mumbled. “'sn’t mornin’ a’ready, issit?”

“Go back to sleep, I'm sorry for waking you,” Virgil whispered in return. “Shhh, it's okay.”

“Mmhmm, did you have a bad dream?” asked Patton. He took Virgil's hand, feeling how much it shook. “‘s okay, everything’s okay.”

“I'm fine now, I just needed to check on you. Back to sleep, Patty, I'm really sorry for waking you up.” Virgil started to step away from the bed.

“No, ‘s okay. Stay, you can stay.” Patton moved over to make more room.

“You sure?”

“Please stay,” Patton insisted. “I don't mind you waking me up, I'm gonna fall right back asleep as soon as you're under the covers.”

Virgil was shivering as he slid down into the bed, nestling into the warm sheets. “Oh, you're warm,” he sighed. “Night, Patty.”

“No more bad dreams,” Patton said sleepily, tugging Virgil into his arms. “Just rest. And tomorrow is Christmas. Everything is okay.”

“No more bad dreams,” Virgil echoed, and his shivering stopped at the same time that his breathing evened out. 

Patton smiled, mostly asleep again. “Night,” he said again. “Good...night…”

He woke up the next morning with the kind of fiery excitement in his chest that could only come with waking up on Christmas morning or one’s birthday. Virgil was shifting in his sleep, and Patton sat up with a bounce.

“Wake up, Virgil! It's Christmas!”

“Mmmmm,” grumbled Virgil. “Too early…”

Patton grinned. “It's almost eight, and it's  _ Christmas _ !”

“Too earlyyyyy,” Virgil moaned. “Pattoooon…” But he opened his eyes and gave Patton a tired smile.

“Christmas!” Patton said again. He felt genuinely happy, for the first time in...as long as he could remember. Bursting with giggles, he flopped back down on the bed.

“I'm so tired,” Virgil sighed. “Are you sure I can't sleep for another...three hours?”

“Presents first?” Patton pleaded. 

“Five more minutes.” Virgil closed his eyes. “I came in here at like...four, and I hadn't fallen asleep until two, and then…”

“Then the bad dream,” Patton acknowledged.

“Uh-huh. Bad one.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I'm okay.” Virgil sighed softly. “ _ You're _ okay.”

“That's right, I'm okay.” Patton touched Virgil's forehead. “Hey, you're Jack Skellington now.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Huh?”

Patton giggled. “You had a nightmare before Christmas!”

It took a second for it to sink in. Then Virgil groaned and rolled his eyes. He grabbed Patton around the waist and started tickling his stomach. “You're ridiculous!” he exclaimed.

Shrieking with laughter, Patton said, “You know you love me!”

“Of course I do, doesn't mean you're not absolutely ridiculous.” Virgil didn't let him go.

Patton kept laughing, trying and failing to push Virgil’s hands away. “Help, help!” he squealed. “Someone, help!”

A few seconds later, Roman came rushing into the room. “What on earth is going on in here?”

“Roman, help me!” Patton begged. “He's tickling me!”

“Oh yeah?” Roman hopped up onto the bed. “Can't have that, can we?” He pulled Virgil off of Patton.

“Hey! Let me go!” Virgil squeaked, laughing.

Patton laid back, panting and giggling at Virgil’s plight. “Roman, let’s do presents,” he said.

“Logan and I have already brought ours out into the living room,” Roman replied. “Only you and Virgil left.” He hauled Virgil up to his feet, holding him up until he regained his balance. “Come on, then!”

Virgil yawned, pushed Roman away playfully, and rushed off to get the presents from his room.

Quickly, Patton pulled the presents out of his closet. He held them close to his chest and breathed a sigh of happiness before running out of the room, towards Christmas.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Death of a parent, grief, cancer mention, mention of attempted suicide, mention of severe depression and self harm, gift-giving, food, Christmas.

“Don we now our  _ gay _ apparel, eh?” Roman called, bounding into the living room wearing a slightly ugly rainbow Christmas sweater. He laughed at Logan and Virgil’s groans, and at Patton’s delighted squeal.

“Can't we just open presents?” Logan complained. “A fashion show is not necessary.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman tossed a package to each of his brothers. “Actually, a fashion show is absolutely necessary. Go on, I want to see you all wearing them!”

The tearing of wrapping paper filled the room. There were sounds of delight as everyone saw their sweaters. “Are these hand-knitted?!” Patton exclaimed.

“I didn't know you could knit,” Logan said, stroking the soft material and smiling.

“My friend Kelly from work taught me and helped me,” Roman explained. “I've been working on them for months.”

“They're beautiful,” Virgil said softly. “Thank you.”

Patton had already put his sweater on and ran over to hug Roman. “Thank you, I love it!”

Roman squeezed him tightly. “Love you, Pat.”

“My turn!” Logan scrambled to hand Patton a large, heavy package.

Patton opened it and looked at it confusedly for a second before his eyes widened. He pulled out a large, blue and grey plaid quilt. “Is it a weighted blanket?” he asked.

“Yeah, it's heavier than mine because they're supposed to be twenty percent of your body weight,” Logan said. “I thought...you might like one. They're grounding.”

Patton had sat down on the ground and was wrapping the blanket around him, an expression of pure contentment on his face. “It's so cozy and warm and soft,” he sighed happily. “Virgil, come share!”

Virgil slid under the corner of the blanket. “Oh, this is a nice one,” he said. “It is really soft, you're right.” He nestled down in the blanket next to Patton, closing his eyes.

“We're not getting them out of that anytime soon,” Roman laughed. The twins looked very comfortable. “Maybe you should've saved that one for last, Lo.”

“Perhaps you're right,” Logan said. “I do have a gift for you, too, but I think it would be better if I showed you later.”

Roman tilted his head. “Some big secret?”

“Yes, exactly. Can we give Virgil our present to him instead?” Logan suggested.

“If we can distract him from the blanket for long enough,” giggled Roman. He picked up the box under the tree that had Virgil’s present that he and Logan had gotten together.

Virgil reluctantly pulled his arms out of the blanket to take the box into his lap. “It's heavier than it looks,” he observed. He carefully sliced through the tape on the package with his fingernail and took the wrapping paper off in one piece. There was a long pause where he just stared at it. “Whoa,” he breathed.

Logan and Roman exchanged a glance. “Do you think he likes it?” Roman asked.

“Hm, I'm not sure,” Logan replied.

“I think he needs to tell us what he thinks,” Roman said, reaching out to poke Virgil. “Hello? Anybody home?”

“I...I wasn't expecting…”

“If you don't want it, give it back,” Roman teased.

“No, it's mine!” Virgil retorted, hugging the box to his chest. “Oh, my  _ god _ , guys!” He looked close to tears.

“You better take lots of pictures with that,” Roman instructed. “That is a  _ good _ camera.”

“Yeah, I know! I haven't...I haven't been taking many pictures lately,” Virgil confessed.

“I know.” Roman reached over and put his hand over Virgil’s. “This is so you start again. Okay?”

Virgil nodded. “I will, I promise. Oh, Roman, Logan, thank you!” He blinked his tears away and smiled. “I  _ love _ it.”

“It was Logan's idea,” Roman made sure he knew. “I just provided some of the funds.”

Already opening up the box, Virgil said, “Its battery needs to be charged...but I should be able to start taking pictures tonight. Oh, it's beautiful!”

“I'm glad you like it!” Logan said.

“Here, this one is for you,” Virgil told him, handing him a thin, flat box. “I...um, it's from a while ago, but I gave it some new life.”

Logan opened the side of the box to slide the picture frame out. His face didn't give much away, but his eyes sparkled as he turned the frame around so everyone could see it. Roman recognized the picture as being from a photoshoot that Virgil had made them do at the beginning of his photography class last year. He had taken them all out to a field in the middle of the night, all of the brothers and their mom, and taken pictures of them sitting together with their backs to the the camera, holding hands and gazing up at the sky. They had to sit very still, Roman remembered, because Virgil had set the shutter speed slow enough to capture the light of the stars. They shone clearly in this photo, probably having been enhanced, and thin white lines had been added between some of the stars to form the constellations.

“It's alright,” Logan said in a small voice, but it meant so much more, and Virgil understood.

“Good, I'm glad.” Virgil looked at Roman and Patton. “I hope you like it, too, ‘cause you all get photos.”

“Well, hand them over!” Roman took the package that Virgil held out and opened it. “Ahh,” he breathed as he opened it. It was a very simple photo of himself sitting on the edge of the stage at the community theater, deep in thought and not aware of the camera. The golden lighting and red curtains behind him made the picture seem more dramatic than it probably had been at the time. Roman’s shape was slightly out of focus, more the background than the subject. The silhouette of three people sitting in the audience was the foreground of the photo, and Roman recognized their shapes as being Logan, Patton, and their mother. The rest of the audience was empty. Roman didn't even remember sitting there like that. He had no idea that Virgil had taken his picture. “It's really nice, Virge. Thank you.”

Virgil gave him a thumbs up and a smile, and then passed Patton the third package. It was a smaller frame, and Patton stared at it for a long time before he showed the others. Virgil watched him carefully, pulling the blanket tighter so he could snuggle closer to his twin.

Roman didn't say anything when he saw the photo, just nodded. There was a sudden lump in his throat.

“Your first homecoming,” Logan stated.

In the photo, Patton was standing with a bright smile, holding their mother's hands as she laughed about something. He was wearing the dress he had fought the administration to be able to wear to the dance in support of their trans and nonbinary friends at school, and she was just in a t-shirt and jeans, but she looked beautiful. She had always been beautiful, even when the cancer had made her thin and weary, her hair fallen out from the chemotherapy. But this was before the cancer has touched her--or perhaps it was already there, and they just weren't aware of it yet. Her diagnosis had come just a couple months after this picture had been taken. It captured a moment of pure joy, and Patton stroked the glass of the frame lovingly and longingly. He didn't seem to have any words. After a few more seconds, he turned to bury his face in Virgil's shoulder, hugging him so tightly that Virgil coughed.

“Patty, I'm glad you like it, but I can't breathe!” he yelped.

“I love you so much,” Patton whispered, barely audible. He loosened his grip. Virgil got his arms out to hug him back.

Roman waited a minute, then said gently, “Patty, are you gonna give us your gifts or should I grab them from under the tree myself?”

“You do it,” Patton responded, muffled. He was crying a little bit, and Virgil rocked him back and forth.

“It's okay, Patty, we can wait,” Roman said, sliding closer to the twins and touching Patton’s shoulder. “Take as long as you need.”

“N-no, you get the p-presents,” Patton stumbled. “Yours is from both of us.”

Roman took the gift bag addressed to him and opened it, gasping at the beautiful notebook and pen set inside. “Oh, it's gorgeous! Oh, thank you, I'm gonna write such good words in there, you have no idea.”

Patton was smiling and wiping his eyes, sniffling a little. “Glad you like it.”

“Someday when you're rich and famous, you better not auction those away,” Virgil teased. “Unless it's for charity, I guess. ‘This is the pen that the great Roman Sanders wrote the first lines of his award-winning script with!’”

Roman laughed. “I wouldn't auction it away, don't worry.” He handed Logan the other gift bag. “What's in here, hm?”

There was an actual squeal of delight that came from Logan's mouth as he pulled the book out of the bag. “Patton, this is wonderful, it's exactly what I wanted!”

“May it bring you hours of joy from reading it,” Patton told him.

Logan was already flipping through the pages of the collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, making ecstatic remarks about each one he came to. They all listened fondly as he talked. Virgil opened his gift from Patton, putting the sweatshirt on and smelling the purple candles with a content expression.

Roman eventually managed to drag them all to the kitchen to make pancakes, which was almost a disaster because one of them burnt so badly it started smoking, and they narrowly avoided setting off the fire alarm. It turned out fine, however, and the pancakes were delicious. Christmas movies followed, starting with  _ The Nightmare before Christmas _ by Virgil’s request.

Halfway through  _ It's A Wonderful Life _ , the house phone rang. Roman flinched. Hardly anyone called them there.

“Are you gonna answer it?” Patton whispered. “We can pause the movie.”

“It's fine, you don't have to pause it.” Roman wriggled out from underneath the excessive amount of blankets they were cuddled under and ran to get the phone before it stopped ringing. “Sanders residence.”

“Hey, girl, merry Christmas.”

Roman bit his lip. “Rem, this isn't the best time.”

“Please?” Remy begged. “Please, you haven't answered my calls in months and I just wanna talk for a few minutes.”

“Okay, okay! Fine. Hold on.” Roman came back over to the couch. “It's Remy,” he whispered. “Don't pause the movie, I'll be back in a few minutes.” They all gave him a sympathetic look. Roman fled to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, sitting on the bed. “Yeah, Remy. I'm here.”

“Girl, oh my goodness, it's nice to hear your voice,” Remy sighed. “You okay?”

“I'm…” Roman hesitated. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

“Okay, I know you've...had a lot going on,” Remy said. “And I know you've needed to spend your time taking care of your baby bros. But...I've been kinda worried about you. All of you. Can I have any sort of an update?”

Roman clutched the phone tightly and said nothing. This was hard.  _ Really _ hard. It was hard to talk to Remy after everything that had happened between them.

“Ro, honey, listen. I'm good with giving you as much space and as much time as you need, I promise. I told you that before, and I'm telling you again now. I'm  _ waiting _ , for as long as it takes.”

“I know,” Roman managed. “And I love you for it. You deserve better, someone who can actually be there for you--"

“Don't you start that again,” Remy warned him.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay, girl, it's okay.” Remy paused. “How's Patton? Poor baby.”

“He's doing better,” Roman answered.

“Yeah? Oh, that's good, that's good, I've been so worried about the kid. Miss him. I see Virge sometimes when I'm helping out in the school theater, but he doesn't talk much. And how's the baby genius?” asked Remy.

“Logan's doing pretty good.”

“And how are  _ you _ ?” Remy said seriously. “Roman. Be honest, ‘kay?”

“Rem...if I'm honest, I'm gonna start breaking down on the phone with you,” confessed Roman, his voice shaking. “I can't talk, not really. Not yet.”

“Come see me soon,” Remy said softly. “Come see me when you  _ can _ talk, really talk. I'll be here."

“I know. I know.” Roman swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Merry Christmas, Rem.”

“Yeah, girl. Merry Christmas. Love you.”

“I love you.” Roman hung up quickly before he could start crying. He closed his eyes. After a minute, he stood up and went back to the living room. He slid underneath the blankets next to Patton and grabbed his hand, fixing his eyes on the movie.

“You okay?” Patton whispered softly.

“Hardly,” replied Roman.

“Is Remy okay?”

Roman squeezed his hand. “He's fine. Shhh, talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. It's okay.” Roman smiled reassuringly at him and kept watching the movie.

Late that night, after Roman had talked to Patton a little bit about the phone call and everyone was supposed to have gone to bed, Logan came into his room.

“Hey, nerd, what's up?” Roman yawned.

“Did you forget? I have a present for you,” Logan said.

Roman eyed him suspiciously. Logan didn't seem to be carrying anything. “Okay, where is it?”

“It's not an object.”

“Okay...what is it, then? You've sufficiently piqued my curiosity.”

“Promise you won't be angry?”

“Uhhh...tell me what it is, first.” Now Roman was slightly worried.

“It's just, I did it without your permission--but if it's not something you want, it's easy to back out, I promise, I did a lot of legal research, and nothing is actually signed, of course.”

“Logan,” Roman said calmly. “What did you do?”

“I got you a book deal.”

“A...book deal.”

“With a publisher. A small publisher, but a legitimate one. Like I said, I did a lot of research. And you can back out of the contract at any time.”

“Okay, first of all,  _ how _ ?” Roman demanded. “You're fourteen!”

“I registered myself as a literary agent with a company that didn't have an age restriction, and I communicated with the publishers only via email,” Logan answered. “I, well, I got the idea from  _ School Story _ , by Andrew Clements.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” Roman scoffed. “Is this legal?”

“Morally dubious, but technically legal. And the publisher  _ wants _ your book, Roman. They aren't supposed to sound eager, but the way she was talking about how much promise your novel has and how much she liked your writing, and the deal she offered you...of course you should look at the contract before you sign it. I just…” Logan shifted where he stood. “Perhaps this was a bad idea.”

“Logan,” Roman said softly. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Since I finished editing the first draft three weeks ago. Well, longer than that, actually.”

“And there's a publisher who wants to publish...my novel.”

“Yes. It's a very good deal for a first novel, too, and above average royalties, and…” Logan was fiddling with his thumbs, looking rather nervous as he swayed from side to side. “But as I told you, you don't have to take it. I just got the opportunity for you.”

Roman was trying to wrap his head around this. Part of him wanted to chastise Logan for doing something like this behind his back. Another part of him just wanted to pull Logan into a big hug. “You think it's good enough to publish?” he asked.

“Not only do I think it's good enough to publish, the publisher agrees with me,” Logan said.

“My silly little novel?” Roman checked. “Are you sure you didn't accidentally send them something else?”

“I'm positive. Your novel. A publisher wants it.”

“And you did this for me.” Now Roman was getting a bit choked up, which made Logan seem even more nervous.

“Roman?”

“Come here,” Roman demanded, and he wrapped Logan in the tightest hug he could muster. “Come  _ here _ .”

“So you'll take the deal?” Logan squeaked, clearly having a hard time breathing.

Roman let him go. “I'll have to look at it first, and actually talk to this publisher myself.”

“Of course!”

“And under no circumstances should you ever do something like this again. I thought we were done keeping secrets?”

Logan crossed his arms. “I thought it didn't count if it was a present?”

“Finding loopholes now, huh? You'd make a good lawyer if you weren't so set on being a medical researcher and college professor, buddy.” Roman nudged him playfully. “Okay. You're gonna show me everything tomorrow morning. But right now, we're going to bed. Night, Lo.”

“Then...you're okay with the present?” Logan checked.

Roman’s face split into a grin. “It's the most thoughtful present I've ever gotten.”

“I didn't do much,” muttered Logan. “You're the one who wrote the book, I simply made someone else see the potential.”

“And you edited it and encouraged me and had faith in me even when I didn't.” Roman poked his little brother's nose. “We make a really good team, huh?”

Logan gave him a tiny smile and backed out of the room. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lo. Sleep well.” Roman laid down on his bed in the darkness. He reached for his cell phone and hovered his finger over Remy’s contact for a minute before putting it aside again.

He and Remy had been together for almost two years before they had parted ways. Remy was Roman’s first kiss, first love, first everything. They had a friendship based on trust, which had been hard for Remy to form at first. It had broken Roman's heart to tell him that he needed space, that he didn't have the time or the energy to maintain their relationship when it became clear that his mother wasn't going to make it, and that he was going to be responsible for his brothers.

Remy, wonderful Remy, had understood. He had told Roman he would wait for as long as it took until Roman could be with him again. They were both in the production of  _ Singin’ in the Rain _ even after they had broken up, with Remy absolutely nailing the role of Cosmo even when Roman was struggling to balance rehearsals and family, and Remy had been the one to tell the cast that Roman had to quit after Roman had officially told the director. Roman was so grateful to him for that. 

He had fallen apart in Remy’s arms only once, a week after the funeral. Roman had left work and found himself driving to Remy’s house. The door had opened before Roman had even knocked, and Roman let out everything that he had been holding in because he couldn't let his brothers see how much he was struggling. They had to believe he was strong, or they would have been so scared.

“I can do it, I can take care of them,” he had insisted, sobbing and barely able to stand. “I just need to...I just…”

Remy had pulled him inside and held him as he collapsed to the floor. He didn't say much, but he didn't have to. Roman only needed someone he could break down around, someone with whom it was safe to show his weakness. Remy drove him home a few hours later, long after sunset when the other three boys were all asleep. Roman didn't know exactly how long Remy had sat with him. He remembered falling asleep to Remy rubbing his back, and the next morning, there was a text saying that Remy’s ma had picked him up and brought him back home.

Roman hadn't replied. Virgil was the only one who talked to Remy much after that, since he occasionally drove him home from school. Resolving to at least text Remy tomorrow, Roman closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: alcohol mention, New Year's Eve, anxiety, grief, being in a cemetery, being out in the cold.

A New Year’s Eve of sparkling grape juice and watching the ball drop on the TV led to a very late night for the Sanders brothers. After collapsing into his bed at well past midnight, Virgil found that he couldn’t sleep. For once, it wasn’t out of anxiety or fear of nightmares. The adrenaline of New Year’s was still pumping through his veins and he sat on his bed in the dark with a pillow clutched to his stomach.

His phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled at the text from Elliot.

_ Happy new year! <3 -E _

_ You’re abt 45 minutes late, my friend -V _

_ I was the only sober one at that damn party, my parents and brother were drinking and i had to drive them home lmao -E _

_ Oh yeah, how was that? -V _

_ Terrifying, people drive so crazy on New Year’s. But dw, I’m home safe. -E _

_ I appreciate that, thx -V _

_ I’m like the grandma who always wants u to text her when u get home safely -V _

_ Not that I know, since, y’know, I’ve never met my grandmas -V _

_ Since one died before I was born and the other idek her name, since my deadbeat dad left when i was 4 -V _

_ Sorry that got dark -V _

_ It’s late, I’m tired -V _

_ Sorry, should I let u go to sleep? -E _

_ Nah, couldn’t sleep if I wanted to -V _

_ How’s Pat? -E _

_ Doing better, I think. Still don’t know when he’s coming back to school. -V _

_ It’s been a long time, do you think maybe…? -E _

_ I don’t know -V _

_ I’m worried that’s what’s gonna happen. He keeps...dropping hints about not coming back -V _

_ But idk. He hasn’t decided yet and I’m not gonna rush him, y’know? -V _

_ Yeah, I get it. -E _

Virgil sighed and rubbed his eyes. He knew that Elliot missed Patton. All three of them had always been close, though Virgil had been the bridge between them. He had always said that he was glad that his two best friends got along so well. There had never been any awkwardness between them, which was nice.

_ I finally have all of my applications in -E _

_ Oh, nice! Congrats. That must be a big relief -V _

_ You have no idea -E _

_ I’m literally so happy to be getting away from here next year. -E _

_ That eager to get rid of me, huh? -V _

_ Shut up, you know what I mean -E _

_ I’m gonna miss u like hell. -E _

_ Same, you dork -V _

_ But my parents, and my siblings, y’know, it’ll be nice to get out of the shadow -E _

_ Assuming I get accepted lol -E _

_ I applied for seven schools, I better get into at least one of them -E _

_ I’m sure you will. You’ve got great essays, and your test scores aren’t bad at all -V _

_ Thanks for the vote of confidence. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe I’ll just end up going to the community college with you -E _

_ Which honestly would be okay with me as long as I could move out of the damn house -E _

_ We could get an apartment together. I’m sure Roman wants me out of his hair, though idk if I could leave Patton. -V _

_ I understand that. -E _

A wave of apprehension washed over Virgil as he thought about the future.

_ Elliot? -V _

_ Yeah, what’s up? -E _

_ I think I’m scared. -V _

_ Are you okay? Remember to breathe, it’s gonna be okay -E _

Virgil had to smile at their immediate caring response.

_ No, not like that, but thanks. -V _

_ Just general nervousness, then? -E _

_ Yeah, like...there’s a lot of future, y’know? It’s a lot of time. And I have to live it all. -V _

_...yep? -E _

_ It feels weird. Like, every second of it, I have to live. And I have absolutely no idea how any of those seconds are going to be spent, but they’re gonna happen, no matter what. -V _

_ I’m not making sense, I’m sorry -V _

_ No, it’s okay. I kinda get it. -E _

_ It’s just a long time. -V _

_ I sure hope so, I don’t wanna lose you anytime soon, Virge. -E _

_ You’re kinda scaring me, are you okay? -E _

Virgil contemplated that for a minute.  _ Was _ he okay? He was pretty sure that he was okay, at least mostly.

_ I think so. -V _

_ Okay, well...tell me if I can help, okay? -E _

_ I’m not, like, in danger or anything if that’s what you mean. -V _

_ I think… -V _

_ Idk -V _

_ I think I’m just...missing my mom. -V _

As he typed it, a few tears sprang to his eyes.

_ Oh Virgil -E _

_ I really want to hug you but I can’t drive anymore tonight -E _

_ It’s okay, I don’t want you driving either. -V _

_ Idk, I guess it’s just, New Year’s? It’s a new year. She hasn’t been alive this year. It makes me feel farther away from her. It’s just got me thinking. -V _

_ Ah jee, Virge. I’m really sorry. -E _

_ It’s alright, I’m okay. Just thinking. Hey, you should go to bed, okay? -V _

_ Are you sure? I can stay up if you need to talk. -E _

_ You’re probably exhausted after that party, and I’ll be fine. I think I’m gonna try to sleep, too. -V _

_ If you’re sure. Goodnight, Virgil. Love you. -E _

_ Love you too. Happy New Year, and sleep well -V _

_ <3 -E _

Virgil set his phone aside, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. He wasn’t crying, though he had come close to it. After a minute, he reached underneath his pillow and pulled out a small printed photo. He had taken it only a week before his mother had died. It was the last photo that had been taken of her before she had died.

A pale grey scarf was tied over her head to protect her scalp from sunburn. She was in a wheelchair in their front yard in the morning sunlight, facing the camera and smiling. There was nothing particularly special about the picture except that it was what it was.

Virgil had been meaning to put it on her grave for months, but had never gotten around to it. He had bought it a frame, which was still sitting empty on his desk.

He fell asleep holding the picture against his chest and woke up just a few hours later to the sun rising. Before he was even fully awake, he knew what he was going to do that morning.

Nobody else was awake, of course. It was far too early after the late night. Virgil pulled on jeans and a black sweatshirt, placed the photograph in the frame, put the frame in his hoodie pocket, and walked out the front door.

Once he was halfway to the cemetery, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed into the group chat.

_ Hey guys, don't freak out when you realize I'm gone this morning. I'm fine, I promise, I just decided to visit Mom and give her that picture I mentioned. I'll be home before noon, so you might not even notice that I'm gone, but...yeah. -V _

He was shivering a bit, but walking warmed him up. The cemetery was a little over a mile away from their house. Virgil pushed through the low metal gate and walked down the silent rows of headstones until he reached the one he was looking for.

He knelt down next to the shiny black marble arch and put his hand on the cold stone. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and brought the frame out. He set it down gently on the ground beside the dried, frostbitten white flowers that Roman had probably placed there during the past few weeks. Nobody else was in the cemetery so early on a cold morning, and Virgil closed his eyes. Quiet winter wind blew through his hair and he shivered, tugging his hood up.

He didn't talk, like some people did at cemeteries. He didn't really see the point. She couldn't hear him. If there was an afterlife, his voice would reach her just as well in a silent prayer. He nestled down against the side of the headstone, pretending that it was warm and soft instead of hard and chilly. Still, it was comforting.

With his eyes closed, Virgil thought about her. His mind jumped and travelled in a non-linear way. No real sentences were being formed in his mind, no fully coherent thoughts. If his mother was listening, Virgil just hoped that she understood the sentiment. He was there. He missed her. He loved her.

Pulling his sweatshirt tighter, he wished that he had brought a thicker jacket. He had underestimated how cold it would be, sitting on the ground and trying to cuddle a rock. But he didn't want to leave yet. It was too peaceful. Somehow, even through the cold, he felt safe here. Perhaps his mother really was there protecting him, or perhaps he just wished she was. Either way, he wanted to stay there.

The lack of sleep he had gotten last night caught up to him as he sat there with his eyes closed. He hadn't intended to drift off but he did, falling into a comfortable sleep.

“Virgil?” someone said in a shaky voice. “Wake up, Virgil, wake up.”

He opened his eyes. Immediately, he was shivering, his teeth starting to chatter. He looked up and saw the look of intense worry in Patton's eyes fade to relieved concern. “P-P-Patty?”

“You didn't answer your phone, we drove here right away!” Patton put an arm around his waist and tried to help him to his feet, but his legs were shaking so much that he collapsed. “What were you thinking, coming out here without a jacket?”

“I d-didn’t th-th-think it was th-that c-cold?” Virgil tried.

“Here's the jacket,” Logan said. He was standing right behind Patton and holding out the new purple-patched jacket that Patton had made.

“Thanks, Lo-lo. Here, Virgil, let's get this on, okay?” Patton said gently.

“I f-fell asleep ‘cause I w-was t-t-tired, not ‘cause of the c-cold,” Virgil made sure they knew. “I'm okay, I p-promise.” Still, he let Patton pull off the thinner sweatshirt and help him into the fleece-lined one. It was very warm.

“Still, you scared us,” Patton said. “Don't ever do that again, okay?” He sat down next to Virgil, pulling him into his arms.

Virgil melted into the warm hug. “I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't mean to worry you.”

“Logan, can you run back to the car and tell Ro that we're okay and we'll be there in a few minutes?” Patton requested.

Logan nodded and headed back towards the road.

“Roman is in the car with the heater on,” said Patton softly. “Can we go to the car now or do you need a minute?”

“Just a m-minute,” Virgil replied. “I...I haven’t been here in a wh-while.”

“Me neither.”

Virgil got his phone out, wincing at the notification of  _ 7 missed calls _ and  _ 18 text messages _ . “Sorry, I really didn’t m-mean to fall asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wait until we were up to say you were coming here? Roman would have driven you.”

“I wanted to be alone, I guess.” Virgil took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. “Okay, I’m ready.” He let Patton help him up.

“C’mon, Virge. Let's go home.” Patton touched the top of the headstone. “Bye, mom,” he added in a whisper. “I love you.”

Virgil touched the headstone as well, but said nothing. He held Patton’s hand as they walked to where Roman’s car was parked on the side of the road. Logan was sitting in the passenger seat, so he and Patton got into the backseat quietly. The inside of the car was nice and warm, and Virgil waited for Roman to start telling him off.

“Virgil, are you alright?” Roman said softly.

“I'm p-perfectly fine,” Virgil insisted. “I swear I was gonna come home s-soon. You didn't need to come pick me up.” He paused. “But thank you for doing it anyway.”

“Of course.” Roman closed his eyes for a second. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I fell asleep,” admitted Virgil.

“And the sound on your phone was off. Okay. Keep it on next time you go off by yourself, okay?” Roman was definitely trying very hard to keep completely calm.

“I will, I promise.” Virgil was starting to warm up. “I’m sorry, Ro, I swear I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Roman started the car, driving slowly down the street. “You’re fine.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if Roman was talking to him, or just to himself. Either way, he decided that keeping quiet was the best option.

At home, Virgil sat on the floor of his bedroom, listening to music and working grudgingly on some math homework. He could hear his brothers going about their business around the house, heard the door open and close when Roman went off to work in the afternoon, and marvelled at the normalcy of it all. The new year hadn’t brought anything  _ new _ .

Of course it hadn’t. The changing of years was an entirely human concept, as Logan would point out, just like birthdays or the numbers on a clock.

Eventually, he’d had enough of the math homework and put it aside, taking his headphones out of the case and selecting a playlist on his phone. He found the right balance between ‘loud enough’ and ‘may cause deafness’, just enjoying the music for a moment.

Then he took the new camera's battery off its charger and put it into the device. There were twice as many settings as there had been on his last camera, and he read through the user manual twice before he was confident enough to actually take the first picture.

He played around with the exposure for a while, knowing he couldn't pick a slow shutter speed since he wasn't using a tripod. When he was finally satisfied, he pressed the shutter release button and captured a photo of his math textbook. Perhaps not a glamorous first shot with his new tech, but he was just getting used to the controls.

For almost an hour, he went around his room and photographed everything. He liked to mess with the focus, choosing odd focal points that were behind the actual subject of the scene. One or two of the pictures he actually thought he might edit into some artsy shot despite it all just being inside his room.

With his music up so loud, he didn't even hear Logan walk through the door. He turned around and jumped, almost dropping the camera with surprise. Luckily, it had a strap around his neck. He tugged his headphones off. “Hey, Lo! You startled me, sorry.”

“You like the camera?” Logan asked.

“I love it, Lo, seriously.”

“I thought you would.” Logan came further into the room and sat down on Virgil's bed.

Virgil turned the camera off and put the lens cap on. “Something up?’ he asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil said gently. He sat down next to his little brother. “What did you come in here for?”

“Was working on something, got frustrated, needed a break,” Logan explained briefly.

“I'm guessing you don't wanna talk about it.”

“Correct.”

“What can I do to help?” offered Virgil.

“Nothing. I simply needed to remove myself from the situation.” Logan sighed heavily. “Your room is as good of a place as any.”

“Wanna look at my math homework? I'm sure I made mistakes.”

“No.”

_ That's odd. _ Logan usually liked looking at his brothers’ homework, to show them where their mistakes were and how to fix them.  _ Something else must really be weighing on his mind. _ “Sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine,” Logan said, a hint of irritation entering his voice.

Virgil dropped it. “I'm gonna keep messing around with my camera. You're welcome to sit in here as long as you want, just know I might be taking pictures of you.”

“As long as you don't share them.”

“Never without permission,” Virgil assured him.

Before Virgil could get up, Logan reached out and grabbed his hand without looking at him. Logan was staring straight ahead, deep in thought. He held Virgil's hand tightly, seemingly with no intention of letting go.

Virgil quietly put the camera and headphones aside. When Logan actually sought out physical contact, he usually really needed it. He let Logan squeeze his hand rhythmically, not making any movements in return. If he did something that made Logan in any way less comfortable with the contact, the younger boy would certainly pull away.

Logan's eyes closed after a few minutes. He was clearly not asleep, just so lost in thought that he didn't want any visual input. Neither of them said anything for almost half an hour. Then, Logan opened his eyes, let go of Virgil’s hand, stood up, and softly said, “Thank you,” before leaving his room.

Though Virgil was burning with curiosity about  _ what the hell all that was _ , he reminded himself that Logan wasn’t going to talk about anything before he was ready. Asking him questions would only make him feel cornered and less likely to come back next time he needed somewhere to think about an issue. The last thing Virgil wanted was to shatter Logan’s trust in him, and that meant giving him space. So he didn't go after his younger brother and instead picked up his camera again and resumed his photoshoot.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired.
> 
> Warnings: Mentioned homophobia, anxiety, death mention.

_ Logically _ , Logan knew that the conversation he was planning to have with his brothers that afternoon was going to be fine. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from being nervous about it. Very nervous.

It was three weeks into January now, and his two new college classes had begun last week. Roman had helped him register this time. He was taking Organic Chemistry II in continuation from last semester, but Roman had encouraged him to take Classical Poetry History and Composition after Logan had expressed interest in it. Both classes were going well so far. Logan knew it was time to tell the twins.

He asked Roman to call the family meeting. Official family meetings were quite serious affairs, generally. There was a no-electronics rule (unless the electronics were part of whatever announcement or discussion was taking place). Anything said at a family meeting was supposed to be received thoughtfully and respectfully, and joking to keep tension away was acceptable as long as it was kind and not excessive. Their mother had made those rules years ago, and there was a silent agreement between the brothers to keep the tradition as long as they possibly could.

Roman and Patton were sitting on the couch when Logan came into the living room, and Virgil was sitting on top of the coffee table with his legs criss-crossed. Logan stayed standing, swaying from side to side nervously.

“Shall I call the family meeting to an official start?” Roman offered.

Logan nodded and cleared his throat. He stared at the space between Virgil and Patton. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, kiddo, go ahead,” Patton said. He sounded as worried as Virgil looked.

“It isn’t...something to be anxious about,” Logan tried to reassure them. “I have been taking courses at the community college since last fall.” He figured that it was best to just say it, without procrastinating too much.

Virgil made a sound almost like a cough. “Oh! Oh,  _ that’s _ why you have all of those textbooks hidden in your room!”

“Yes--I apologize for not telling you sooner, I just...wasn’t ready,” Logan said.

“What classes did you take?” Patton asked. “That’s great, Lo, I just hope you haven’t been overworking yourself.”

“Organic Chemistry--level one last semester, and I’ve just begun level two. And last semester I also took Astronomy, while now I am taking a poetry class.” Logan glanced at Roman. “Apparently I needed to broaden my horizons.”

“Poetry, huh?” Virgil said. “Are you gonna have to write some?  _ Please _ show me if you do.” He was smiling a little. “Hey, that’s  _ great _ , Logan. Are you enjoying the classes?”

“Yes, I am enjoying them,” Logan said definitively. “They keep me from boredom, and I love learning new things.”

“At the community college, right?” Patton checked.

Logan nodded.

“Have you been taking the bus? By yourself?” Virgil now sounded worried again.

“I have practiced all necessary safety precautions,” Logan sighed. “My professors knew my situation, so someone always knew where I was. Mom knew, as well. And I told Roman in late November.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Alright. I guess that’s okay, as long as you were being careful.”

“And I’ve been making sure he’s getting enough rest,” Roman interjected. “As soon as I found out, we’ve both been holding each other accountable for taking care of ourselves.”

“That’s good,” Patton said. “That’s really good. Lo? What...what did Mom think about you taking the classes? Did she approve?”

“Yes. She suggested it.” Logan finally sat down in the chair across from the couch. “She knew how important education is to me, and how I wasn’t satisfied with high school.”

Patton swallowed and nodded, lowering his head with a strange expression that Logan couldn’t quite identify.

“Is that all you had to tell us, Logan?” Virgil asked.

“I think so,” Logan said, trying to remember if there was anything else he had planned to tell his brothers today. He looked over at Roman again.

“Ah, I have something to share with you two as well,” Roman stated. He sat up a little taller as Patton and Virgil turned to look at him. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have been...writing. Again.”

“Yeah...we noticed,” Virgil said slowly. “Finally ready to share that with us?”

Roman tugged at his ear. Logan was aware that he was a bit nervous about telling the twins about his novel getting published, but the hesitation that Roman was showing led Logan to believe he was much more anxious than he let on. “Yes, well...it’s a novel, and...Logan and I...that is, for Christmas--and before then, as well, but he told me on Christmas...well, he was helping me edit, and he sent it to a publisher without telling me.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness.”

“And the publisher  _ wanted _ it, and over the past several weeks, I’ve been negotiating contract details and beginning the editing process with them, and...I’m getting published. In roughly four months, though that could very well change depending on how quickly the work gets done,” Roman said, the words coming out in a rush.

Virgil was kind of just staring at him. “For real?” he asked breathlessly.

Roman let out a laugh. “Um, yeah. For real.”

With an excited gasp, Patton said, “Oh, my goodness! Roman, that’s so amazing! I’m so proud of you! We’ll get advance copies, right?”

“You can read it today if you want,” Roman said giddily. He smiled broadly, clearly relieved to have it over with. “But I need to warn you that--well, I wrote it while we’ve been dealing with Mom’s death and everything else, and it  _ really _ reflects that. It was a coping thing, I guess. And that’s why I didn’t tell you for so long, I...I was a bit afraid that it might get trivialized. But I know that was silly of me to think, don’t worry, Logan got me right out of that line of thinking.”

“Of course we won’t trivialize it,” Patton said softly. “Ro, that’s a really healthy way of coping, okay?”

“It definitely is,” Virgil agreed. “Dr. Picani actually suggested at one point that I try to write fiction to cope, but...that’s not for me, I guess. I’m so glad you have that. Really, I’m so glad.”

Roman’s eyes were getting a bit shiny.

“It certainly has been good for you,” Logan stated. “And it is an excellent book. You know I am not one to be biased or to sugarcoat, so you know my assessment is accurate.”

“Thanks, Lo.” Roman's voice cracked and he wiped his eyes. “Anyway. That's what's been going on with me. Haha.”

Patton was fidgeting in his seat. He kept opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, like he was trying to decide whether or not to speak.

Virgil noticed it as well. “Patty? Are you okay?”

“I-I think I have something to s-say, too, if...if that's okay,” Patton said. His slight stutter was appearing, making Logan wonder what was he had to say that was so nerve wracking. “I, uh, is that, is it okay?”

“Of course, anything you need to say,” Roman said. Logan and Virgil both nodded their agreement.

Patton shifted, pulling himself away from the other boys as he tried to talk. “I...I don't know how to...to...I'm sorry, you all are just go-going to-to be so disappointed.”

“Patty, Patty, hey,” Roman murmured. “What is it? You can tell us.”

“Whatever it is, we won't be disappointed. We just want to support you,” Virgil said.

Logan could tell that both of them were thinking the same thing that he was. Was Patton hurting himself again? Had he relapsed?

Patton brought his sleeves up to cover his face partially. “I've been talking about it to Dr. Picani for a while now,” he mumbled. “And...and it's...oh, please don't be angry, but I'm not graduating--I’m leaving school.”

Nobody said anything for a minute.

Logan had to admit, he wasn't very happy about this piece of news. Education is  _ important _ , and Patton was intelligent.  _ How will he ever succeed in a career well enough to support children like he wants to? _

“Yeah, I know,” Roman said calmly.

Patton uncovered his face marginally. “You do?”

“Yeah. I figured this was going to happen. And Patton, I'm not angry. I'm not even disappointed. I...when I first understood that this is where it's been heading, it was...hard. Because...I wanted our support to be enough to get you through everything. But I think I understand now that it's not like that. And just because you need more time to heal, that doesn't make any of us any lesser.” Roman reached out and wiped away the tears that were sliding down Patton's cheeks. “You're my baby brother and I'm proud of you. Okay?”

Patton sniffled and nodded. Then he looked at Logan hesitantly. “Um...Lo?”

Logan hesitated. “Patton. I understand that this is necessary for your health, and I support that decision.”

Nodding, Patton said, “Thank you.”

“I...if at any time you believe you will be able to resume your education, I will help you as much as you want and need.” Logan was wrapping his mind around it more now. “Plenty of non-traditional students have very successful educations.”

“I appreciate that, kiddo. Thanks.” Patton sniffed again. “Right now, I don't know when or if that's gonna happen. I hope I can at least get a high school equivalent degree someday, and maybe more, but right now I just don't know. I...you know, I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up, other than a dad--I’m only eighteen, though, and Dr. Picani said that I don't need to know yet.”

“That's absolutely right,” Roman assured him. “Don't rush yourself. You'll get there eventually.”

Suddenly, a quiet, muffled sob came from where Virgil was sitting. He had covered his mouth with his sleeve so he didn't make any noise, but now all three of the others were staring at him.

“Virge? Are...are you okay?” Patton asked.

“I'm fine--" Virgil managed before he sobbed again.

“Oh, oh, what's wrong?” Patton begged. “Are you mad? Are you disappointed with me? I know you wanted me to come back to school, I'm so sorry!”

“No--oh,  _ god _ , no, Patty! I'm not disappointed in you at  _ all _ !” Virgil said fiercely. Then his face crumpled again. “It's just--your name was gonna be called right before mine at graduation and...and now I'm gonna be walking alone, and we had always...always said you were gonna catch me on the other side of the stage if I passed out ‘cause there's too many people looking at me, and...and it's so  _ stupid  _ but it makes me sad!”

Patton pulled Virgil off the coffee table and onto the couch to hug him. “I'll still be there,” he promised. “Right up as close to the stage as they'll let me, I swear.”

Virgil nodded and pressed his face into Patton's shoulder. He stopped crying after a few minutes and raised his head sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I...I'm being ridiculous.”

“No, you are not,” Patton replied sternly. “Don't be mean to my twin brother.”

With a quiet laugh, Virgil nudged Patton gently. “Alright, fine. I'm sorry. Anyone else have any big news to share?”

Suddenly, Logan remembered the other thing he had been meaning to tell his brothers. “Yes, in fact--I have recently discovered that I am gay.”

A stunned hush fell over the room as that piece of news was absorbed. Logan became acutely aware that his three brothers were staring at him.

Then, Roman started laughing and punched the air. “Four for four, huh? Suck it, dad!”

Logan shrugged and smiled a little. He had no memory of their father, but according to Roman, part of the reason he had left was because Roman was very obviously gay as a young child and their mother had accepted him. They were all rather grateful that they had gotten the man out of their lives before the situation might have escalated, since Virgil and Patton came out together as ace-aro and pan respectively when they were in early high school.

Patton sniffled and rushed over to Logan’s chair to hug him. “Proud of you, kiddo,” he said softly.

“It isn’t a big deal,” Logan sighed.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but how did you figure it out?” Roman asked. “Do you have a crush on someone at school?”

Logan made an irritated face. “I’m far too busy to get crushes on anyone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t examine my potential for attraction.”

“Ah, fair enough.”

Virgil looked deep in thought. “What is the probability that all four of us turn out to be some kind of queer?” he wondered.

“The numbers are too complicated to find an exact probability, but it’s certain that we are a statistical anomaly,” Logan responded. Already becoming uncomfortable again by the attention being focused on him, he cleared his throat and asked, “If nobody else has anything to say, the meeting can be over now, I think.”

“I have something to say! I love you all so much,” Patton said.

“Yeah, Pat, we know that,” replied Virgil.

Patton shrugged and finally let go of Logan, of which he was appreciative. “Well, I felt like I had to announce it right then.”

Roman put his arm around Patton. “It's okay, Patty. You can tell us you love us whenever you want.”

Apparently in a very huggy mood, Patton latched his arms around Roman's waist and didn't let go.

“Family meeting adjourned,” Logan said with relief, and headed off to his bedroom to spend some time by himself. He probably wouldn't have been able to put words to the feeling he had as he shut his door, but it felt almost like several dark clouds had lifted off the Sanders household all at once, a result of secrets being shared and coming into the light. The air felt metaphorically lighter and easier to breathe. Some of the poets that he would be studying that semester might say that the sun had come out from behind the clouds to shine down on the anomalous family.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Graduation, crying, romance, kissing, a little-too-cheesy singing of songs from an old musical, grief. <3 ~Martin

Because Virgil had begged him not to, Roman didn’t bring any loud noise-making devices to graduation. He clapped and cheered along with Patton and Logan as Virgil’s name was called, handing Patton a tissue when he noticed the tears starting. Elliot’s family was sitting nearby, their sister cheering the loudest for them. And sitting on Patton’s other side was Remy, who was there at Virgil’s request. Roman had seen him a few times since Christmas, but they hadn't talked at all about anything more than trivialities.

Caps were thrown, tears were shed, the last speeches were made. Virgil and Elliot came running over as soon as they could, when everyone was milling about with their families, saying goodbye to their friends and their former teachers. Patton caught his twin first, squeezing him tightly and crying something about how proud he was. Logan put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder fondly and murmured congratulations.

Roman sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“Not you, too?” Remy said softly from behind him.

“I think I got a bug in my eye,” Roman insisted.

“Sure, girl. Sure.”

Virgil managed to pry Patton off of him for a moment and came over to hug Roman. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Thanks? For what?”

“Everything? You’re doing so good, Ro. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Trying to swallow more tears back, Roman muttered, “‘Course you couldn’t have, I’m amazing.”

“I love you,” Virgil added, burying his face in his older brother’s shoulder. “And I’m serious, you’re doing such a good job--you shouldn’t have ever had to take care of us like this, but you are, and we’re so grateful and so proud. Mom would be proud, too.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, graduate,” Roman managed. “Hush, you.”

At that moment, Elliot and Patton both came over and pulled Virgil away to hug him again. Roman took the opportunity to wipe his eyes again.

“Another bug?” asked Remy.

“You hush, as well.” Roman shoved Remy gently. “I’m allowed to cry, my baby brother just graduated.”

Remy was looking at the kids with the same fondness in his eyes that Roman felt. “I’ve missed them,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, Ro.”

“It is, though. If I hadn’t told you I needed so much space, you’d have seen them more often,” Roman said.

“I’ve said it again and again, how long is it gonna take for you to understand?” Remy said, trying to laugh. “I didn’t mind waiting.”

Roman grabbed his hand. For a second, it seemed as if Remy was going to pull away. Then he gripped back, even harder than Roman. They clung to each other’s hand as if they were trying to make up for the many months they had spent apart.

Both of their eyes shining, the twins rushed back over to Roman. “We can go to Elliot’s house for their graduation party, right?” Virgil asked.

“Of course, you’re both adults,” laughed Roman. “Just text me when you get there.”

“Oh, and Logan wants to come with us, ‘cause he’s friends with Elliot’s sister, they’re both freshman,” Patton added. “Is that okay too?”

“Sure, yeah. Take care of him.”

“We’re gonna head out before the parking lot gets too crazy,” Virgil said. “Elliot wants to know if we can take your car? ‘Cause we won’t all fit in their parents’ car. We can drop you off at home before heading to their house?”

“You’re welcome to the car, I think I’ll walk home. I could do with some fresh air,” Roman said. He looked at Remy. “Do you want to walk with me?”

Remy nodded. “Yeah, that sounds...nice.”

“Great. Tell Elliot to drive safely, guys. And hey--” Roman caught Virgil up in another hug before he could get away. “Congratulations, Virge. I’m proud of you.” He looked over at Patton, whose face had fallen into a more subdued expression. Roman narrowed his eyes and held his arm out for Patton to join the hug. “And I’m proud of you, too, Patty. Don’t you forget it.”

“Thanks,” Patton sighed. “I...I don’t deserve…”

“Are you talking bad about yourself?” Virgil and Roman said at the same time. All three of them broke down laughing.

“Sorry,” Patton giggled. “I won’t do it again.”

A few minutes later, Elliot has whisked them away to beat the traffic leaving the school. Roman and Remy were left standing on the fake grass of the football field where the graduation had been held. The early evening sun was sinking, and the air was hot, heavy, and damp. Dark grey clouds gathered on the horizon in the beginnings of a summer storm.

“It’s gonna rain before we get home,” Roman sighed.

“Ah, a little rain never hurt anyone, we ain’t sweet enough to melt,” Remy teased. “Wanna go see the theater before we go? I bet Mr. Smith came for graduation, we could see if he’d let us in. For old time’s sakes.”

“Yeah, sure. I haven’t...wow, I don’t think I’ve been inside the theater since  _ our _ graduation,” Roman said.

Remy took his hand again and began leading him off the field down towards the performing arts building. “I’ve been back a lot, ‘cause I’ve been helping Mr. Smith and stuff. I did the choreography for this past winter musical.”

“Oh, yeah it was…” Roman thought hard. “Um,  _ Beauty and the Beast _ ?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Sounds like fun,” Roman said.

“It was. Turned out pretty good. Getting the copyright for a Disney show means the theater department is probably broke for like, two years, but that’s okay. They’ll just do Shakespeare like we did after  _ Newsies  _ to save money.”

“It’s good for ‘em,” Roman laughed.

“Oh, absolutely.”

They found Mr. Smith cleaning up in the theater, and talked to him for a while, messing around on the stage and trying to outdo each other with dance tricks. Mr. Smith had to leave soon and told the two young men to come back to the theater next year, that he could use their help. Roman felt rather elated. He had  _ missed _ being in a theater, dancing on stage and laughing.

That wasn't the only thing he had missed, though. Walking home in the dim evening light, static electricity and humidity making the air cling to his skin, Roman felt an ache in his heart at being so close to Remy. All of the feelings he had needed to forget about to be able to take over as his brothers’ guardian were rushing back, and he didn't know if that scared or excited him. He didn't know whether to reject those feelings or embrace them.

A distant clap of thunder introduced the first few raindrops that fell onto Roman's hair. He idly wondered if he should have thought to get the umbrella from the car before the kids took it to Elliot's place. But it was still very warm, and as Remy had said, it wasn't like they were going to melt.

“The rain is nice,” Remy said quietly, breaking the silence. “How far are we gonna be walking in it? I have no idea where we are.”

“We're less than a mile to my house,” answered Roman.

“I believe ya. My unfortunate lack of directional awareness is just kinda shrugging and going along with it.”

The rain was already getting heavier. Enough water was gathering on the road that every car that drove past sent a neat spatter onto the sidewalk. Roman's t-shirt was nearly soaked through in a few minutes.

“Hey, Roman?” Remy sounded strangely serious. “Are you ever gonna come back to theater?”

“I don't know.”

“But do you  _ think  _ you will? Or no?”

“My book is getting published next month,” Roman said. “One of my brothers is starting college in the fall, one of them is probably going to manage to graduate at least a year early, and the other is recovering from severe depression.  _ I'm  _ going back to my classes this fall after taking this semester off. I don't know when or if I'm going to have time for more productions, Rem. As much as I'd love to come back.”

“I get it.” Remy paused. “I just couldn't help but...notice how happy you seemed back at the school theater. Doing your old choreography and laughing, it felt...like it used to.”

“Hey, Rem, just because I don't do full productions for a while, doesn't mean I can't still perform sometimes.” Roman smiled and looked up at the darkening sky, blinking away the rain that dripped into his eyes. “Do do-do do,  do do-do do-do do, d-do do-do do do, do do-do do do do-do-do, do…” he hummed.

“Oddly appropriate,” Remy said, a bit of a laugh entering his voice.

“I'm singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain.” Roman walked in time to his singing, skipping every few steps in something resembling a dance. “What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again.”

“I'm laughin’ at clouds, so dark up above,” added Remy in his surprisingly sweet tenor.

By pure chance, they were passing by a streetlamp. Roman hopped up onto the base and twirled around it. “The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love.” He dropped back down next to Remy and grabbed his hand. “Let the stormy clouds chase everyone from the place.”

Remy held his arm out and turned his face up to catch the raindrops. “Come on with the rain, I've got a smile on my face. I walk down the lane--”

“With a happy refrain, just singin’, singin’ in the rain,” Roman concluded. “See, I can perform whenever I want.” His fingers had naturally entwined with Remy's, and their steps were synchronized.

“And you're damn good at it, girl, you almost had me convinced there for a second.”

“Convinced?” Roman asked, confused.

“I'm happy again,” echoed Remy. “And I'm ready for love.”

“What makes you think I was acting?” Roman said impulsively. 

Remy glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “What, are you saying you weren’t?”

“I’m saying…” Roman struggled for words. “I’m saying, y’know, maybe I picked that particular song for a reason?”

“Yeah, but I figured the reason is ‘cause it’s...raining…”

“Well, I...I don’t know, I don’t think...that I can really say I’m... _ happy _ again, but...something’s changing. I feel like I’m walking into the start of something, or... _ out _ of something, like the worst is over.”

“‘Cause Virge graduated?” asked Remy.

“Maybe. Definitely, that’s part of it, that he’s onto the next phase of his life and he’s gonna be more independent, but I feel like...that’s not everything. There’s something else.” Roman felt Remy’s thumb stroking the back of his hand as they walked.

“Roman, baby, you know I love your dancing, but not so much when you’re dancing around an important subject,” Remy said. “If you have something to say to me, say it.”

Roman stopped walking, staring straight ahead into the light from the streetlamps streaked with rain. He got the sudden impression that he was standing inside an oil painting, or an indie movie. “I have that feeling most strongly when I’m with you. When I see you and touch you now, I don’t feel stressed like I did before, when I knew I couldn’t give you my time and energy and devotion like you deserve.”

“Is that because you think you can now?”

Slowly, Roman nodded.

Remy stepped in front of him to face him. His pale grey eyes reflected the golden streetlights. “You want to get back together now, yeah?”

“If that's what you want, too,” Roman finally confessed. “Because I've got my energy back, I'm not spending all of it just trying to stay afloat, and I'd have time to hang out with you and go on dates, and...and I've missed you so much, and I am, I'm ready for love and I'm ready to give you my love again. If you still want it. If you still want me.”

Remy smiled. He brought Roman's hand up to his face and kissed it softly, the way Roman had once admitted made him melt. “I still want you.”

Roman laughed in relief and fell into Remy's arms. He closed his eyes as Remy held him close, felt his chin being tilted up and went gladly into the kiss as the rain fell down on top of them.

“Kissing in the rain, how romantically cliche,” Roman murmured.

“And you love every second of it.”

“Of course I do, but the movies never really tell you that it gets very soggy, very fast.” Even though the air was warm, Roman was starting to shiver a little, his clothes soaked completely through. “We're only a couple blocks from my house.”

They picked up the pace as they continued walking, still hand in hand. Roman unlocked the door as quickly as he could and rushed both of them inside, escaping from the darkness and the rain into the dry, well-lit house.

“Let's get some towels,” Roman suggested. “And dry pajamas, that sounds nice.” He took off his t-shirt as they walked into the bathroom. Both of them draped their wet clothes over the shower door and on the towel racks, then put on some sweatpants and soft shirts that were just a little too small for Remy, though large and comfy for Roman.

They curled up together in Roman's bed, the lights off except for a small lamp, and the rain drumming at the window. Remy was playing with Roman's hair. “You wanna talk?” he murmured.

“About what?” Roman was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Anything.”

“I don't know. Um, do you?” asked Roman.

“I don't know. Nothing has really happened in my life recently, nothing big. A few productions, some choreography jobs. My ma's brother had a kid last month. My grandpa finally reached out to my mom after about thirty years of silence, but nothing has really happened, they haven't seen each other or anything. Just talked on the phone a couple times.” Remy drew his finger down Roman's cheek. “I'm pretty okay with my current place in the world, baby. Not striving for much in any direction. Oh, though I did get tickets to some concert in August, which is fun. I got two, if you wanna come with me.”

“Yeah, definitely. Who were you gonna take if we hadn't…?”

“Well, I was pretty sure we would, but if not, I'd've sold it,” Remy answered.

“You were that sure? That's...good. I'm glad you knew I'd be ready, ‘cause I didn't. You always did know me better than I know myself,” Roman said, amused.

Remy laughed softly. “That's right, baby.” He kissed Roman's forehead. “So that's what's up with me. How about you? You wanna talk about...well, everything you've wanted to talk to me about over the past however many months?”

“Oh, good lord, that would be a lot.” Roman shivered. “And it would involve...a lot of crying, and...that's not what I want tonight.”

“Yeah? It's okay to cry, darling. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I...I know, I just…” Roman snuggled closer. “I'm too tired to deal with it. Soon, though, okay? I'll talk to you about everything. I promise. Tears and all.”

“I've gotcha,” responded Remy. “Whenever you're ready. Close your eyes now, baby.”

Roman closed his eyes, sighing softly. Half-asleep, he felt a strange mixture of relief and all of the overwhelming sadness he had pushed aside over the past months so he could take care of his family. He felt his own breathing quicken, and a dampness on his cheeks jolted him back into wakefulness.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Remy. “Why are you crying? Ro?”

“Ah, sorry, I...I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Roman tried to dismiss, trying to reach up to hide his tears. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

Remy caught his hands. “Come closer,” he whispered. “Come here, cry all you want.” He let Roman bury his face in his t-shirt, wrapping his arms strongly around Roman’s waist and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I...I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Roman said blankly. “I don’t  _ know _ .”

“That’s okay. It’s okay, Roman. Everything’s okay.”

A few confused minutes of quiet sobbing later, Roman lay still and quiet. Remy’s hand on his back slowed until it was just resting near his waist. Roman thought he might have fallen asleep. Then Remy starting humming and whisper-singing to him, and Roman smiled.

“You are my lucky star,” Remy sang. “I saw you from afar.”

“How many songs from one musical can you sing in real life before it becomes cheesy?” yawned Roman.

“At least four. Shhh.” Remy laughed quietly and kept singing. “Two lovely eyes at me, they were gleaming, beaming. I was star struck.”

“You're all my lucky charms, I'm lucky in your arms. You've opened heaven's portal here on earth for this poor mortal. You are my lucky star…” Roman's voice trailed off. “Goodnight, Rem.”

Remy didn't respond, and it was with soft amusement that Roman heard him snoring quietly, sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! <3 ~Martin


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the final chapter! It isn’t long, but I will be answering any questions about the boys’ future that you want to ask (on my tumblr, [rainbow-sides](https://rainbow-sides.tumblr.com/). I have it all planned out, and I have so much I want to tell you! <3 ~Martin

It was late. So late that it was already tomorrow, and Virgil was laying in Elliot's bed with Patton cuddled on one side and Elliot sleeping on the other. He always ended up in the middle somehow.

Patton's deep, steady breathing was soothing, but Virgil couldn't fall asleep. He gazed up into the darkness and waited for morning to come.

Elliot was quiet in their sleep, with soft breathing that could only be heard if one was listening for it. They slept curled up with their knees drawn towards their chest, making themself small and unassuming. That was how they were awake, too. Hardly ever drawing attention to themself, staying silent whenever possible. They had confessed to Virgil once that they hadn't always been like that, but that years of being disregarded by their parents and older brother had made them prefer remaining in the background.

When Virgil was told that, the first thing he did was to go quiet himself. And then he told Elliot that they were never just a part of the background to him, and he hoped they never would be. Elliot had hugged him, smiling just a little, and hadn't said anything in return.

“Virge?” The unexpected whisper startled Virgil. “Virge, you still awake?”

“Yeah,” Virgil whispered back. He turned his head to face Elliot, though he couldn't really see them in the darkness. “You too?”

“Just woke back up, I could tell you weren't asleep.” Elliot shifted, reaching out to touch Virgil's arm. “How you doing?”

“Ehhh…” Virgil took a deep breath. “Alright. I think.”

“Anxious about the future again?”

“Always.”

“Me too.” Squeezing Virgil's arm, they added, “We're not gonna be those friends that lose touch after high school, right?”

“I...I hope not!” Virgil quickly lowered his voice again, not wanting to wake his twin. “Even if you are going to school in another state, that doesn't have to mean we don't spend time together, and text each other, and stuff.”

“I guess. I just…” Elliot sighed. “I don't want you to forget about me.”

“Never,” Virgil assured them.

“Back at you.”

“Made any headway in figuring out your major yet?” Virgil asked.

Elliot made a long, pathetic whimper.

“Guessing that was a nope,” laughed Virgil. “It's okay, you've got time.”

“Wish I had literally any clue what I wanna do with my whole damn life,” Elliot lamented.

“Buddy, pal, we're eighteen, I don't think we have to have any clue about anything yet,” Virgil said affectionately.

“You told me the other day that you might have an idea, though.”

Virgil bit his lip. “Well...yeah, I've kind of been thinking...about something.”

“Wanna let me in on these thoughts?” Elliot said, a little too loudly.

“Shhhh,” Virgil breathed. He felt Patton move slightly and sniff in his sleep. “Don't wake Patty.”

“Sorry.”

“It's okay, he's still out.”

More softly, Elliot repeated, “Wanna let me in on what you're thinking?”

“Um...yeah, sure. Well, y'know, I had thought about maybe being a therapist for a while before realizing that trying to help people like that while I'm still...me, might not be a great idea. But...maybe I could go into psychiatry.” Virgil held his breath as he waited for his friend's reaction.

“A psychiatrist, huh?” Elliot said thoughtfully. “That's not a bad idea. You gotta do, like, med school and stuff though, right?”

“Maybe, I haven't really done a lot of research. I haven't let myself think about it too much because, well, community college first. I'm just gonna do gen ed stuff for now, figure things out and stay close to home.” Virgil reached out and found Elliot's hand, twining their fingers together. “Plenty of time to get further ahead, right?”

“Right. Plenty of time.” Elliot yawned. “Good chat for three a.m, we should do it more often.”

“Mmhmm. It's okay, you can go back to sleep, Ellie.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Elliot giggled quietly. “You gonna try and sleep too?”

“Yeah, I'll try.” Virgil wasn't sure if he was even tired. He knew he should be, but his eyes didn't want to close and his mind kept turning and turning.

“Sweet dreams,” said Elliot, and they yawned once more before falling silent.

The future didn't seem as frightening as it usually did. Maybe Virgil was just riding the excitement of graduation and the party, but he could actually see himself moving on to college and adult life without the dragging weight of dread.

He missed his mom, of course. He always would, and it would always hurt, and maybe he would never really be ‘over it’. Maybe a part of him was always going to be stuck in the past, with her. And maybe that was okay. The past could be a good place to visit, as long as it didn't trap him there and keep him from living.

So even if a small part of him was always going to be sobbing on the ground of a train station, most of him would be heading into the future. 

And he'd be joined by Roman, who would publish his book and get back into acting and spend his life in love with Remy. Logan would come, too, his path leading him through multiple colleges and eventually into a research lab where he would develop new treatments for illnesses to make people's lives easier. And Patton would be there as well, building himself a family out of children who needed him.

_ Yeah, _ Virgil thought as he finally fell asleep.  _ We really are going to beat the odds and get our happy endings. Might as well add that one to our long list of anomalies. Happy endings. We'll make it there, someday. Someday... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a lovely new year! <3 ~Martin


End file.
